


The Adventure Zone tumblr ficlets

by marywhale



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Canon Era, Episode: e060-066 The Stolen Century Parts 1-7, F/M, Gen, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-15 09:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 26,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13610022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marywhale/pseuds/marywhale
Summary: A collection of short ficlets posted on tumblr in response to prompts and asks.





	1. Taako and Angus talk weddings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: "Are you drunk?" (Taako and Angus)

Angus is marking papers when someone knocks on his office door. Or rather, someone starts to knock and then there’s a loud thump that sounds a lot like someone giving up and just leaning up against it. He checks his watch—which confirms that, yes, it _is_ in fact one in the morning—and then gets up to open the door.

Taako nearly falls into the room when he does. Angus catches him before he can topple over completely and Taako gives him a dirty look, pulling himself upright and making a show of brushing off the front of his rumpled blouse. “I’m _fine_ ,” he says. “No need to get handsy, Agnes.”

Taako huffs and pushes his way into the office, dropping onto the couch Angus _maybe_ sleeps on more than is healthy. It’s fine. He’s seventeen. His back can take it. “Sir,” Angus says. “Have you been drinking?”

“What would you know about drinking? You’re a baby,” Taako says, which is definitely a yes.

Angus closes the door and shrugs, grabbing the glass of water sitting beside his pile of marking and holding it out for Taako to take. “You’re right. I’m not allowed to have alcohol yet.”

“Goody-two-shoes.” Taako sits up so he can take the glass and takes a sip of water, squinting at Angus for a moment. “You know, you used to be shorter.”

“I know, sir,” Angus says, turning one of the chairs in front of his desk around to face Taako on the couch so he can sit too, be closer to eye-level. Drunk Taako is easier to handle if you can stop him from getting belligerent. “I’m sorry. I think I’m done growing now.”

“Good,” Taako says. “This is _ridiculous._ I don’t know what you thought you were doing, but this?” Taako waves a hand at him. “Bad.”

Angus can’t help grinning, even though it earns him a glower in response. “I’ll remember that. Promise.” He pauses. If Taako is drunk and in Angus’s office, it means somehow he managed to get drunk on his own because Lup and Kravitz wouldn’t let him come to the school in this condition and Taako wouldn’t drink _this_ much on campus. He enjoys cultivating his celebrity status, but being publicly tipsy is the kind of thing he does on dates in Neverwinter, not in the hallways of the mostly empty school. Taako coming here means he was looking for Angus, which means everyone else is otherwise occupied. “Where’s Mr. Kravitz?”

Taako’s frown deepens. “ _Working_ ,” he says, with great distaste. “Spooky mama called him up in the middle of the tasting and he had to go because life and death, blah blah blah. You know, business stuff.”

“Tasting?” Angus repeats.

“Champagne. Wine.” Taako lets out a dramatic sigh and flops back against the couch cushions. “The _wedding_.”

The visit makes a lot more sense now. Taako and Kravitz have been planning their wedding for the better part of four years now. It hasn’t even _happened_ and already it’s a media frenzy. Venues get booked and dates set, then cancelled. Dresses and suits are bought and rejected a few days after the final tailoring is complete. Caterers and bakers all across Faerun have had Taako and Kravitz drop in for sampling. Vineyards too, apparently. No invitations have ever been sent out, but Angus knows for a fact that four full, elaborate wedding ceremonies and six receptions have been planned and summarily called off when they were deemed wanting.

The on-again-off-again wedding is notorious, now. It’s become such a matter of speculation in the press and everyday gossip all across Faerun that even the staff of Taako’s Amazing School of Magic have a secret betting pool going. It’s tiered—people betting on the day of the wedding, the elaborateness of it, and some even on whether or not Taako and Kravitz will actually _get_ married after all. 

Angus has refrained from entering the pool, although he’s pretty sure he could sweep the whole thing. He may be working as a teacher, but he’s still the world’s greatest detective.

“Did you decide on a wine?” Angus asks, mostly to humour Taako.

Taako makes a disgusted sound. “No,” he says. “They were _terrible_. Cha’boy doesn’t _need_ customized labels and a bottle for every guest. That was _two weddings_ ago.”

Angus remembers. There’d been a flood of artists offering to design the labels. He’d helped wade through the hopeful submissions that got sent to the school when people couldn’t figure out how to get them to Taako and Kravitz’s actual house. “I guess they haven’t gotten the memo on custom bottles being out yet.”

“ _This_ one definitely hadn’t,” Taako says, and flops over onto his side. “And you’re all…” Taako gestures to Angus and then up towards the ceiling in a way that’s _maybe_ supposed to indicate his height. “How are you supposed to be the ring bearer?”

“I was going to be the ring bearer?” Angus asks, perking up a bit. That’s new.

“Well, not _now_. You’re too tall. You’d look ridiculous.” Taako adjusts the pillow under his head. “What have I told you about sleeping in your office, bubelah? It’s bad for your back. Where’s your blanket?”

Angus dutifully gets to his feet so he can retrieve the blanket he keeps in one of his filing cabinet drawers and lay it over Taako. “You could always ask Mookie to do it instead,” he says, mostly to enjoy the unimpressed look that gets him from Taako. “Okay. Not Mookie. Do you _need_ a ring bearer?”

“I don’t know what we need.” Taako rolls onto his back and drapes an arm over his eyes. “This whole thing is a fucking—fucking _disgrace_. A fucking _nightmare_.”

Angus should probably try and get Taako to drink more water, but he’s all tucked in now. Angus doesn’t want to risk Taako deciding he should try to teleport home or something. “Well,” he says, because it’s something he’s been thinking for a while and a suggestion he’s _pretty_ sure would win him the school betting pool if Angus needed the money or the bragging rights. “You could always elope.”

Taako pauses, raises his arm just enough to peek out from under it. “Elope?”

“Yeah,” Angus says. “I mean, I know you’ve planned a bunch of weddings and bought a lot of outfits and tried a lot of cake, but… you know. You haven’t been happy with any of it before. Why keep trying to do the same thing over and over when you could just… go for it?” He shrugs. “You could get Captain Davenport to marry you. I don’t think Mr. Kravitz would mind. You can always throw a big party later if you want to.”

“Huh,” Taako says, frowning like he’s trying to process the advice. “Pumpkin, if you elope and don’t invite me to the wedding when you get married, I’ll fire you. You’ll never work in this town again.”

“I’ll invite you to my wedding, sir. I promise,” Angus says, grinning. “You want me to dim the lights so you can nap?”

Taako tugs the blanket up to his chin and settles back down on the couch. “Please.”

The next week, it’s front page news—Taako from TV and fiance finally married in secret ceremony; elope while on weekend cruise. More on page ten.

Taako declares the Monday after the wedding a school holiday and he and Kravitz take Angus out for a _very_ nice thank you lunch.


	2. Angus calls for backup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Shield (Angus and Kravitz)

Angus McDonald, at fourteen-years-old, is one of the preeminent scholars in Faerun. He teaches at Taako’s Amazing School of Magic, despite his young age, and so far he thinks he’s pretty good at it. His students seem to like him, anyway, even if most of them are his age or older and the older ones kind of treat him like a kid brother. At least they’re nice about it —it’s hard to do a mean goof on your teacher and get away with it. He’s published two papers—one on material transfer in transmutation and one on the thermodynamics of small scale evocation spellwork—and he’s got a third on the go, building off his observations around material transfer in transmutation, but applied to conjuring instead. So far it’s going pretty good. His academic career is _blossoming_.

And, if he’s honest, Angus is bored with it.

It’s not that he’s not grateful for the opportunity to teach or that he doesn’t enjoy research it’s just—Angus was a detective, once. He was a Seeker for the Bureau of Balance. He used to take his knowledge and his big brain and apply what he knew to  _ practical scenarios_.

When Lucas told him about students at the School of Arcane Sciences going missing—mostly, honestly, because Lucas thought Taako had something to do with it—Angus hadn’t been able to turn down the opportunity to do… a little investigating. It had seemed harmless enough. Tell Taako he was going to visit his old school, bare the grumbling about betrayal, show up and poke around a bit, solve the case, go back home before Taako even realized what was happening.

That was the plan, and it would have worked if the parties responsible for people disappearing hadn’t gotten the jump on Angus. He’d been maybe a  _ little _ too caught up in his excitement over the long red hair he found at the scene of the most recent snatching—the victim of which was bald—to notice the person coming up behind him, armed with a thick textbook and powerful arms, primed to whack him hard enough to knock him out.

It’s embarrassing, honestly. He’s never going to hear the end of this.

Angus has no glasses, no wand, and no idea where he is. His hands are tied behind his back and someone’s taken away both his blazer and his shoes. The shoes, he assumes, are to make it harder for him to run away. He’s not sure about the blazer. Maybe because it’s warm in the closet. Angus does a mental inventory, but nothing else seems to be missing—they haven’t even taken the necklace he’s wearing under his shirt or his watch, although they have helpfully loosened his tie.

His head aches and that, combined with his blurry vision, is making it hard for him to focus well enough to get himself  _ out _ of here, wherever hear is.

The room is dark. The floor Angus is lying on feels like linoleum—it’s possibly he’s not off campus yet, although it seems unlikely that the snatchings could take place entirely on campus without being noticed. His feet are unbound, so it’s easy to work himself into a sitting position, and then to kneel and carefully start feeling his way around the room.

It’s small. A utility closet of some type, probably. There’s enough light creeping in from under the door that when his eyes adjust, Angus can make out the shapes of over-full shelves lining the walls. There’s a faint scent in the air that’s half-familiar. If he closes his eyes he can  _ almost _ place it—acrid and medicinal, almost sterile but not quite. Maybe he  _ is _ still on campus because Angus generally has a very good sense memory, but this isn’t—

A door opens, outside his little prison, and Angus hears voices.

“I can’t believe you took the kid. Do you  _ know _ what kind of trouble you could bring down on our heads?” The voice is deep, moderately feminine—maybe a woman, Angus doesn’t want to assume anything. They’re annoyed, worried. It’s not a familiar voice.

“So we use him tonight,” says a second person. They’ve got a much deeper, gruffer voice and a placating tone that says they know they screwed up by taking him.

Angus—tied up alone in his closet—smiles. If they know who he is, they’ll be nervous. If they’re nervous, they’ll make mistakes. It makes his captors more dangerous, too, but Angus is willing to bet on them making mistakes before they get too dangerous for him to handle.

As if to prove him right, Angus hears the sound of a key being inserted into the lock on the closet door. He weighs his options—no glasses, no wand, he’ll be momentarily blinded by the light when the door opens—and flops back on his side, closing his eyes and making a point of slowing his breathing.

The door opens.

“How hard did you hit him, Piper? He’s still out,” says the first voice. Its owner walks closer, reaching over to prod Angus’s shoulder. They’re surprisingly gentle about it, so they’re probably not trying to wake him. 

Angus shifts, makes a soft noise as if he were asleep.

The person looming over him heaves a sigh. “Doesn’t seem like he’s concussed. We could just... put him back. Dump him somewhere.”

Angus has to fight back a smile. Whoever this is is at least  _ mildly _ smarter than he’d first thought. That’s good. They’ll probably surrender.

“Fuck that, Greta. We’re so close I can  _ taste _ it. If we let this kid go he’ll just go right back to snooping. I’m telling you—nobody knows he’s missing yet. If we use him tonight then we’re one step closer and there’s nobody for his friends to look for anymore.”

“His  _ friends _ are the Seven Birds, Pipe. His friends are  _ the saviours of the known and unknown multiverse_.”

“And when we finish the ritual, we’ll be  _ gods_.”

Greta is quiet for a long moment. Angus is cheering for her to make the right call, in his own head. Not for  _ his _ sake but because Greta is seriously going to regret it if she doesn’t.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Greta says, which is disappointing. “You’re  _ right_. Fuck. Let’s do this.”

Greta grabs Angus by the shoulder and  _ shakes _ him. Angus opens his eyes, blinking at the woman bent close to him—half-elf, pale skin, brown hair in a bun at the nape of her neck. She’s wearing a lab coat over her clothes. So is Piper, behind her. Piper is a ginger dwarf with a long beard and a stern face. They’re also wearing a lab coat. They explain the presence of the red hair at the scene of the last kidnapping. It’s good to know he was onto something before carelessness got him into this mess.

Angus turns his attention back to Greta. “Where am I?” he asks.

“Can’t you tell?” Piper asks, sneering down at him. “I thought you were the world’s greatest detective—guess you must be a little rusty.”

“A bit,” Angus agrees. “You hit me pretty hard with that textbook and I don’t have my glasses on. It’s hard to get my bearings. Some kind of institutional setting. You’re both students at the School of Arcane Sciences, judging by the lab coats and the fact that so far only grad students from the school have been taken, so we might still be on campus.” He tilts his head, sniffing the air. The smell from before is stronger now. It clings to the lab coats both Greta and Piper wear—it’s probably lingering on the rest of their clothing and in their hair too—and suddenly it  _ clicks _ in Angus’s mind and he’s too dazed, still, from being hit to hold back the giggle that bursts from him.

It’s  _ formaldehyde_.

Greta really, really should have fought harder to put him back where they found him. They fucked up. Real bad.

“You’re  _ necromancers_,” Angus says.

Greta looks unsettled. Piper is just angry. He steps forward and raises a hand. “I’d watch what your mouth if I were you, kid.”

Angus pushes himself back into a sitting position, grins up at Piper. “Oh, I’m not worried, sir,” he says. “You took my wand and my glasses, but you missed the necklace.”

Greta and Piper exchange a glance and then Piper changes tactics, reaching down and grabbing at the chain around Angus’s neck, yanking it off and frowning at the silver locket on the end of it. To be fair, they were probably expecting some kind of arcane focus.

“Is this a joke?” Piper demands. “Some kind of trap?”

“Shield it,” Greta says. “Don’t  _ open _ it no matter what or who knows what hell you might unleash, knowing who this kid’s friends are.”

“Yeah, no fucking kidding, Greta. I’m not an idiot,” Piper snaps, pulling out a wand of their own and casting a shielding spell around the locket and chain both. They wait for a moment, but when nothing explodes, they look up at Angus, smug. “Not quite as clever as everyone says you are, are you? It doesn’t matter. We’re going to sacrifice you to the glory of the Great Demon Orcus and he’ll bestow even more of his Abyssmal power on us. We’re going to be the most powerful warlocks in existence. You’re lucky. You’re going to be part of our legacy.”

Angus looks at Piper and then Greta and then at his locket, inside the shield. The nice thing, about shield spells, is they do nothing to cut out sound. In fact, outside of the muffling properties of his shirt, the locket is going to pick up sound  _ even better _ than it would have inside it.

Angus purses his lips and whistles a song so old the instruments used to play it now only exist in museums, a song that few living people have ever heard—a hymn to the Raven Queen.

There is a momentary pause, while Greta and Piper stare at him in confusion, and then Angus hears the sound of the material between planes being torn in two. The air goes still, suddenly, and the room seems less bright, and Angus feels the cold presence of Death at his back. 

He watches, satisfied, as the slightly out of focus faces in front of him go very, very pale.

“Angus,” Kravitz says, in his work voice—the  _ angry _ work voice, all thick Cockney and venom. “Seems like someone’s made a bit of a mistake here, doesn’t it?”

“Do you mean me or them?” Angus asks, tilting his head back so he can kind of see Kravitz’s face—not that there’s  _ face _ to see right now, exactly. Kravitz is in full Grim Reaper mode, eyes blazing with astral flame, scythe in hand, his cowled robe stretched around him and black as endless night.

“Oh, we’ll save your mistakes for later,” Kravitz says. “Taako will want to go into those in great detail. Let’s focus on your  _ friends _ for the moment, shall we?”

“Oh yeah,” Angus agrees, looking back at Greta and Piper. “They fucked up.”

Greta makes a break for the door and Kravitz is across the room in a heartbeat, his outstretched scythe around her neck and Angus closes his eyes so he can miss what the combination of her momentum and Kravitz’s blade does, but he hears the sound of two distinct, wet  _ thumps _ in the aftermath of it.

Piper screams—a wordless sound of fury—and Angus opens his eyes just in time to see Piper  _ launch _ themselves at Kravitz, wand in hand, and to see Kravitz twist his hold on his scythe ever so slightly to the left, so Piper too ends up driving themselves down on it, to their own demise.

Angus  _ really _ shouldn’t have gotten himself captured by these people.

Kravitz collects Greta and Piper’s souls as his flesh fills in, then turns to give Angus a  _ look_. 

“Hello, sir,” Angus says, giving Kravitz a sheepish smile. “If it helps, they were necromancers, so I’m pretty sure you had bounties on them already.”

“Taako is going to be very annoyed at us both for not calling him,” Kravitz says, dropping the Cockney accent as he banishes his scythe. He walks over and kneels behind Angus as he frees his hands.

“In my defense, they took my locket. I couldn’t exactly open it to call him without opening it and seeing the stone inside, but your frequency is easy to signal without hands.” Angus rubs at his sore wrists once Kravitz frees him.

“Taako is going to be  _ even more annoyed _ that you used bardic magic to signal me,” Kravitz says, standing up. He offers Angus his hand. “Are you all right?”

“Oh, I’m fine.” Angus picks his locket up off the ground, loops it over his neck, and tucks it under his shirt. He takes Kravitz’s hand and pulls himself to his feet “I thought I’d try solving the campus disappearances. You know, while I’m here, and—honestly, this is embarrassing.”

“You should be very embarrassed,” Kravitz agrees. “But even the most foolish suspects get lucky sometimes.”

Angus reaches up to touch his sore head and grimaces. There’s no blood when he pulls his fingers away so he’s probably okay. Maybe mildly concussed. He’ll see a cleric. “Can we… _not _ tell Taako about this? Maybe?”

Kravitz pauses, glances over his shoulder at the the two dead bodies in three pieces. He’s obviously considering it. Taako will be  _ very _ put out that he didn’t get a shot in at the necromancers and Angus really, really doesn’t want the lecture Taako will have in store for him.

“Please?” Angus looks at Kravitz, widening his eyes for effect, tilting his head ever so slightly forward to give the illusion that he’s looking  _ up _ further than he actually is. He just won’t stop  _ growing _ and it’s damned annoying sometimes. There are lots of tricks that used to work better when he was little than they do now.

Kravitz stares him down, for a moment, then laughs. “You look just like Taako when you do that,” he says. “Okay, just this once—it’ll be our little secret, but the next time you decide to meddle in the affairs of warlocks  _ try _ telling someone what you’re doing first.”

“Of course, sir,” Angus lies. “I wouldn’t dream of putting myself in danger.”

Kravitz gives him a look that says he sees right through Angus, and summons his scythe again. “Please wait at  _ least _ a week until you put yourself in danger again. I need to go make up an excuse for leaving in the middle of date night.”

“Good luck,” Angus says, with feeling, after a very pregnant pause.

Kravitz snorts and then tugs Angus into a brief, unexpected hug before letting him go. “I’ll tell him it was a work emergency and come back to deal with the bodies later. Don’t get arrested.”

“I won’t,” Angus promises, because that he definitely  _ can _ do.

Kravitz opens another rift and Angus gets the barest glimpse of a fancy restaurant and  _ very _ startled patrons on the other side before Kravitz steps through and closes the portal behind himself.

Angus has learned a lot about family, over the past four years. A lot he never knew when he lived with his grandfather. For example, sometimes family means being gifted extravagantly enchanted jewelry as a safety precaution because  _ people recognize a stone of farspeech, pumpkin, this is a Taako Original._ Sometimes it means being taught songs steeped in ancient power  _ just in case you ever need to call, no Taako I’m not trying to make Angus a bard_.  And sometimes family means keeping a secret from your dad with your other dad because telling the truth assures your mutual destruction.


	3. Taako and Barry break out of jail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Jail cell, peril, lipstick (Taako and Barry)

This isn’t the first jail cell Taako’s been in and it likely won’t be the last. He’s been held for ransom by kings, kidnapped by pirates, arrested for treason —and he’s pretty sure that one was extra bullshit because don’t you need to be a  _ citizen _ to commit treason?—and back home there were… a few times he and Lup got a  _ little _ rowdy and ended up spending a night cooling their heels in holding, but this is honestly a new one. The novelty of it is almost enough to keep him from feeling pissed at Barry for getting them into this situation.

Almost.

“You had to tell them you were a fucking necromancer, didn’t you?” Taako kicks the wrought iron bars of the small cell they currently share. It’s clean, at least, in the basement of the temple with nothing to provide them comfort besides a stone bench. The walls of the cell, though, are intricately carved—inlaid with highly polished obsidian—with flocks of ravens. Or whatever a group of ravens is called—a conspiracy. An unkindness. The ravens form spirals in the stone cell walls, gathering in a circle on the wall opposite the bench, around an anatomically accurate carving of a heart.

If you sit, you’re forced to look at it. Barry’s on the bench. Taako’s  _ good_.

He shivers, and tells himself it’s from the chill creeping into the cell as night falls and a breeze blows through the small, barred window, set high in the far wall. 

“Forty-eight cycles without being sacrificed to anything. I guess that’s a good run. Would have liked to make it an even fifty. Some people manage a whole lifetime, but I guess why the fuck not? Might as well try having my heart carved out of my chest, right?”

Barry rubs the back of his neck, gives Taako a sheepish look. “I really didn’t think they’d react like that. I mean, they looked…”

“No, for sure. Very necromancer-y,” Taako says, waving a dismissive hand. “Still not something I’d  _ open _ with in the future, Barold. At least not until you’re  _ absolutely _ sure you aren’t talking to the leader of the fucking Temple of the Raven Queen.”

Barry leans back against the wall behind him, stares at the giant black heart on the wall in front of him. “Yeah,” he says. “My bad, bud.”

Taako levels a glare at Barry. He’s calm. _Way _ too calm. They’re set to be killed to make up for their sins against the natural order of life and death or whatever at midnight. Their wands are gone. The rest of the crew doesn’t expect them back until the morning. They’re  _ fucked_.

“I swear to Pan, Barry, if you’ve got a plan you’re not telling me about—”

Barry shakes his head, pulling his attention away from the heart so he can focus on Taako. “No plan,” he promises. “I guess I just… I don’t know, Taako. I know this cycle just started, but we’ll be back next year. It’ll probably be pretty unpleasant, but—”

Taako is up in Barry’s face right away because  _ he doesn’t get it_. Like yeah, fuck, of course Taako doesn’t want to get sacrificed to the Raven Queen to right the natural laws he’s broken or whatever, but that’s not the crux of their problem. “My dude,” Taako says, voice stern. “Look around. Who the fuck is in this cell right now?”

Barry pauses, actually glances around because he’s a  _ nerd_. “Uh, just you and me. What—?”

Taako grabs Barry’s shoulders, staring him dead in the eye. “Who. Is in. This cell.”

Taako sees the moment it clicks in Barry’s mind because the colour drains from his face. “Oh no,” he says. “Lup.”

“Thank you! He gets it!” Taako turns on his heel, resumes pacing up and down the length of their small prison. Outside, there’s a narrow stone hallway, lit with torches. It’s all very classic dungeon. Taako will give this, to the followers of the Raven Queen, they’re  _ very _ committed to their aesthetic. It’s hella goth. Taako would be into it, if they weren’t also planning to kill him. 

He’d tried explaining that he wasn’t a necromancer and leaving Barry to it, but apparently his  _ soul _ showed that he’d committed sins against her laws or something.

Yeah. Right. Someone just wanted to get their rocks off with a juicy elf heart.

“Everyone else is safe,” Barry says, getting to his feet too, glancing around the cell like Taako could have possibly missed something sitting around their surprisingly clean prison. “Lup will have the rest of the crew with her. She’ll be okay.”

Taako gives Barry an unimpressed look. “I know you’re all lovey-dovey right now, but who said I was worried about her lack of emotional support, my dude? If these fools sacrifice us to their spooky mama bird, Lup will burn this motherfucker down. Lup will raze the temple. She might save the world, but she’ll start the year off mercing a bunch of priests. And I mean, like I give a fuck about them, but does that sound like something  _ Lup _ would be cool with long term?”

Barry and Lup might have only been together since the last cycle, but they’ve been friends for decades. He knows Lup and her convictions and what she cares about. He knows that Lup has her sharp edges, but they’re blunter than Taako’s, softened by kindness and a moral core Taako could give a fuck about.

He knows that, no, Lup wouldn’t long term be cool with the fact that she tore a temple apart piece by piece.

“Fuck,” Barry says.

Taako nods. “Yeah. Fuck. So, Barold. What are we going to do?”

Barry turns in a slow circle, observing the entirely of their cell again, then reaches into his pockets and pulls out a stick of gum, a button, and some string. “Well,” he says. “This is what I’ve got. If we want to… stick the button to the string.”

Taako is a transmutation wizard. Give him a dress with pockets and he can make  _ magic _ happen. It’s just that that magic doesn’t involve a spare wand because it didn’t occur to him he’d need one to say hi to some fancy necromancers with Barry.

He reaches into his pockets and pulls out an orange, a compact, half a chocolate bar, three gold pieces he probably should spent while they were still at the Legato Conversatory, and a tube of bright red lipstick.

Taako puts it all on the bench, next to Barry’s garbage. “What was this supposed to accomplish?”

Barry frowns down at the contents of their pockets, then reaches for the lipstick, picking it up.

“I’d start off smaller, bubeleh. Maybe a soft pink to ease into the makeup thing,” Taake says, raising an eyebrow. “Do you want me to  _ seduce _ our way out of this?”

“Do you think you’re the priestess’s type?” Barry asks. “Maybe  _ I _ could seduce our way out of this, but no. That’s not what I’m thinking. Taako… you’re a very powerful transmutation wizard.”

“Uh-huh,” Taako agrees, because true. “And by the way, Taako is  _ everybody’s _ type and you’re dating my identical twin sister so don’t tell me I’m not yours.”

“I mean, personality plays a big part in attraction, but—this probably isn’t the best time to talk about how attractive you are. Bud… do you think you could use your lipstick as an arcane focus?”

Taako blinks, looks down at the lipstick in Barry’s hands. It’s… a big ask. Taako likes to have something dramatic to work with, and he doesn’t usually  _ go _ for metal. Not to mention the thing is full of lipstick and just, uh, generally  _ not _ a wand or an orb or crystal or staff or—whatever.

“Fuck,” he says. “You want me to use lipstick to magic our way out of this? Why don’t you try it?”

“Because I’m not a transmutation specialist.” Barry jerks a thumb over his shoulder, at the stone wall. “And if—”

“If anyone has a chance of making Stone Shape work using a tube of lipstick it’s me.” Taako grabs his lipstick back from Barry, then sticks the rest of his stuff back in his pockets. “If this works, it’ll be  _ wild_. I hope you paid more attention in Magnus’s self-defense classes than I did, because if we run into angry Raven-heads, they’re all yours.”

Taako turns to face the far wall. Rolls his shoulders, mostly for sure. It’s a big ask, but fuck it, sometimes you have to take a risk.

Taako points his lipstick at the little window, concentrating on sending his magic down the length of his arm, channeling it into the little tube, and then into the wall in front of him, picturing it opening up in his mind, stretching away from the window, taking that hole already  _ in _ the wall and just… making it much, much bigger.

The bars that were in the window clatter to the floor of the cell as the window stretches, up and out, exposing dirt and fresh hair and if there are any temple goers outside it’ll be hard to miss, but right now Taako feels real fucking proud of himself for pulling this off.

“Let’s  _ go_,” Taako says, once he’s sure the hole is big enough. He pockets the lipstick and strides to the hole, pulling himself up and out easy, then turning to give Barry a hand. Barry isn’t necessarily the most dexterous guy, so it takes some tugging, but then he’s up and they’re both  _ out _ and then take a moment, just half a second, to grin at each other before the sound of someone raising an alarm has them up on the feet and  _ racing _ through the graveyard that surrounds the temple.

“These fuckers—are so—morbid,” Taako pants, hurdling a low stone instead of going around it.

Barry’s running too hard to say anything in response, but he grunts an affirmative.

A spell hits the ground between them and Taako had to turn his head away as something explodes—a poorly airmed Magic Missile, from the sounds of it. They probably don’t want to damage their sacrifices too badly before the ceremony. It’s  _ great _ news for their escape because Taako can’t cast on the run using lipstick for a wand, but if these chucklefucks don’t want to damage the goods, then he’s golden.

Taako yanks the tube from his pocket again and stops running as soon as he’s behind the moderate shelter of a gravestone. Points the tube at Barry, who’s hesitating, turning to glance back at Taako, and then Taako’s casting Longstrider and the next step he takes, Barry’s off like a  _ shot_, letting out a startled yelp.

Taako casts on himself too, and then he’s speeding over dark, damp earth, vaulting the wall around the temple grounds, racing into the woods with the sounds of the chase fading behind them, Barry at his side, reaching out to grab hold of Taako’s hand so they don’t get lost as they work on putting ample, ample distance between them and the Raven Queen’s followers.

When they stop running, they’re in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by sheeps. They have no idea where they are, but they’re alive, and the crew will start looking for them in the morning.

Taako’s dress is ruined as he has a whole fucking forest in his hair from running through the trees. Barry looks remarkable well put together still.

Taako leans against the fence surrounding the field of sheep, beginning to pick leaves from his long braid, and after a moment spent assessing danger levels, Barry comes over to join him.

Taako frees an actual snail from his hair and pulls a face. “The Raven Queen is on my fucking list,” he says. “I’m done with her followers and their feathery bullshit. Seriously, I’m going to tentacle the dick of the next clown who tries to get all high and mighty life-and-death on me.”

Barry just laughs because it’s much easier, now that they’re free of the cell and immediate danger, to fall into banter. “I don’t know. Might meet a nice guy who’s into that.”

“Nope,” Taako says, voice firm like stone. Like steel. Like an immovable rod. “Trust me, I’m over it. There will be absolutely _no_ goth boyfriends for Taako.”


	4. Taako and Kravitz on an astal plane vacation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Lake, dawn, shield (Taako and Kravitz)

The astral plane is endless and vast. It holds the souls of the dead from every plane in their system. It is, despite the thinking of most on the material plane, never still and rarely quiet. It’s dark, yes, but there is a depth to the darkness that is the antithesis to the  _ emptiness _ the living think of, when they imagine the realm of the dead. The dark of the astral plane is a dark that is full up, a dark that holds vast multitudes, that is home to  _ millions _ of souls who flicker and shine like stars set against a velvet sky.

It’s beautiful, and for centuries it has been Kravitz’s home.

He is surprisingly nervous to bring Taako here, where there is no night or day or concept of time, where the very few physical structures that exist are held together by the will of the Raven Queen—this place that the living fear to tread.

Most of the living, anyway. Taako, as always, is proving to be the exception to the rule.

“Next time, we’re going to go someplace nice and sunny,” Taako says, walking the perimeter of the island that holds the Eternal Stockade. Kravitz is still a little wary of the Sea of Souls, if he’s honest, but Taako has no qualms about walking along the shoreline. “I want to get you into some swim trunks, my man. Have you tried surfing before? I’m  _ great _ at surfing.”

“Is that the thing with the board?” Kravitz asks, smiling as Taako bends down to examine the not-water that makes up the seat. “From year you spent on the beach?”

Taako glances over his shoulder and makes a face. “You’re cute, bubeleh, but sometimes having everyone know my business gets old.”

“You got drunk with Magnus and Merle at Chesney’s and told me about that one when I picked you up,” Kravitz says, because it’s true. Taako had insisted on taking a walk along the beach as the sun rose because he’s a secret romantic. Kravitz is ridiculously fond of those moments of vulnerability. If he’s honest, he’s ridiculously fond of everything about Taako. “I wasn’t cheating, I promise.”

Taako squints, obviously trying to recall the moment. Taako not remembering makes sense, honestly. He’d been  _ very _ drunk. Kravitz had had to support him for most of the walk after Taako had belligerently insisted that he was  _ fine _ and he wanted to  _ watch the fucking sunrise with his skeleton-boy, Krav_.

“Right,” Taako says. “Anyway, the point is Taako’s going to teach his man to surf, but I feel like spooky mama wouldn’t be down with surfing on the lake of souls.” He glances out at the sea again, evaluating. “Not much in the way of waves on it anyway.”

“Sea,” Kravitz says. “It’s the Sea of Souls and you really—I got special permission to allow you to visit the astral plane, Taako. From Her Majesty. Spooky mama isn’t exactly…”

“Not kosher?” Taako flashes Kravitz a grin and walks over to loop their arms together. “I don’t know, Krav. Looks like a lake to me. No currents. No predators. Just a bunch of boring old souls swimming around in a soup pot.”

“It’s called the Sea of Souls,” Kravitz says, firmly.

Taako looks at the sea, then turns back to him. “We  _ definitely _ need a beach trip, my dude. I need to show you what an ocean looks like. It’s not all this still nonsense, I can promise you that. The sea  _ moves_. The sea has—”

He pauses and Kravitz quirks an eyebrow, amused. “Life?” he suggests.

“Shut up. I don’t believe for a second that the reason your so-called-sea doesn’t move is because it’s  _ dead_,” Taako says. “That’s not even goth, Krav. That’s just absurd. Come on, I’m  _ Taako_, you know, from saving the world? Let me take you on a nice tropical vacation next time. We’ll compare. You can tell me which you think the best sea is.”

Lying somewhere with Taako in the sun does sound nice. Kravitz isn’t sure about the surfing thing, but he suspects Taako’s really after a chance to show off, now that he’s remembered his skills.

Kravitz, pointedly, isn’t thinking about the things Taako lost in Wonderland and the possibility that the trip to the beach won’t be quite what Taako wants it to be. In the long run, that won’t matter. They’ll roast in the heat and sip frozen drinks and do whatever else it is tourists do. They’ll pretend not to be Taako from saving the world and his boyfriend Literal Death for a bit. It’s always fun.

“We could go to Goldcliff again,” Kravitz suggests, mostly to see Taako react.

Taako shoots him a dirty look that says he knows exactly what Kravitz is doing, but rises to the bait anyway.

Sometimes Taako can’t help himself.

“We are  _ not _ going to Goldcliff again. Not until I’m  _ mentally prepared _ to watch my boyfriend, the Grim Reaper, Emissary to the Raven Queen, lose his fucking shirt playing roulette. You lost  _ twenty-thousand gold pieces_, Kravitz. The casino was so happy they put free champagne in our room. They offered to have us back  _ any time_.” Taako pinches his arm when Kravitz starts laughing. “Twenty. Thousand.”

“It was fun,” Kravitz says, and lets out a fond sigh. “Money mean very little me now.”

“Means a whole fucking lot to me and the casino, let me tell you,” Taako grumbles. “You’re supposed to be  _ good _ at gambling.”

“I do all right.” Kravitz looks down at Taako. “You were a good bet.”

“Yuck.” Taako rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile playing on the corner of his lips as he tugs Kravitz down by his tie and brushes their lips together, soft and sweet. “That was a terrible line,” he murmurs, staying close. “I can’t believe I fell for it. What do I see in you?”

Kravitz smiles and wraps his arms around Taako, kisses him again. “I’m told I have a very handsome face.”

“Can’t imagine who said that. It’s a skull half the time.”

Their foreheads are pressed together and Kravitz is grateful to the astral plane for its inherent sense of peace, even here, next to the Eternal Stockade, for the calming sight of the velvety darkness surrounding them, for the sense of intimacy that darkness  gives, for the chance to hold his boyfriend on the shore of this sea/lake.

“I have it on good authority that you’re into it,” Kravitz says.

Taako laughs, loud and uninhibited, and his hands slide over Kravitz’s chest in a way that means they should  _ probably _ move somewhere more private, and there is a moment where everything is perfect and then there’s a rustling like a flock of ravens taking flight and the Raven Queen is next to them, glorious and terrible all at once, her form carved from blackness darker than anything else in the astral plane, towering over them in an ever-shifting column of night.

Kravitz instinctively turns, pushing Taako behind himself and shielding him from view even though he  _ asked _ for this, got special permission to bring Taako to his home.

He feels immediately like a fool. The Raven Queen, as her form coalesces into something more manageable, something that resembles a creature half-bird, half-human in nature, looks at him like he’s a cool.

Taako hooks his chin over Kravitz’s shoulder and holds out a hand. “You must be the Raven Queen,” he says. “Charmed. I’ve heard all about you from Krav.”

The Raven Queen cocks her feathered head, a beady black eye boring into Taako, assessing him. She extends a clawed and feathered hand to shake Taako’s, briefly. “And I have heard much of you as well,” she says, beak unmoving as her voice echoes through their minds. “Kravitz speaks of little else.”

Kravitz curls in on himself. Ever so slightly.

“ _Oh_?” Kravitz can  _ hear _ the look on Taako’s face—a smug smile, the look of an elf absolutely certain he knew what had been said about him.

He doesn’t. It’s much worse than that.

“Oh yes,” Kravitz’s patron and the reason for his undeath says. “He hasn’t been able to  _ stop _ talking about you since two Candlenights ago when he came back ranting about the clever elf with the high bounty who he’d struck a deal with.”

Kravitz reaches up and rubs his hands over his face. “Shall we do tea now, then?” he asks. “I thought we’d do tomorrow, but if you’re free, my Queen—”

“Oh, _yes_ ,” says the Raven Queen, and smiles a terrible smile that is all beak and teeth. “We have much to discuss.”

Kravitz contemplates jumping in the Sea of Souls again. Just to see what happens this time.

Taako glances at him, raises his eyebrows. “All good, bubeleh?” he asks. “I’ve got a  _ lot _ of good discussion topics, but if you’d rather—”

“No,” Kravitz says. “This is one of the reasons I wanted this vacation.”

Taako reaches out and squeezes Kravitz’s hand, briefly, firm, grounding. Taako is so  _ warm_, even in the astral plane, and Kravitz is—ridiculously in love with him. Taako’s life history was broadcast across the planar system. It’s embedded in the minds of everyone who heard it, including Kravitz’s. The least he can do to even the playing field is let Taako meet his mother.


	5. Magnus rushes in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I'm just picturing Magnus being like 'oh hello, excuse me, are you fighting? I would like to join' as super buff Magnus just steps in between two people who have no idea why he's there"

They’ve been on this plane for seven months and Magnus is going stir crazy. It’s all politics and intrigue and a lot of sitting around and talking. Magnus is more than the brawler he appears to be, but that doesn’t mean he’s suited for negotiating with a bunch of old men in stuffy robes. Davenport and Lucretia are heading up the talks with the Council that rules this province to obtain the light of creation. The rest of them are supposed to make nice and do their best not to it fuck up.

In a court that fights with words and not their fists, surrounded by people who think any inclination towards physical intimidation is a sign of weakness and low intelligence, that’s exhausting. Magnus is just  _ big_. He can’t help it. He doesn’t have magic. He protects his friends—his  _ family_—by being able to take a hit, by being able to dole out necessary damage when it’s required.

There’s nothing wrong with that. Every member of the crew has their individual strengths. They balance each other out. This cycle just isn’t in his wheelhouse. That’s fine.

Or, well, it  _ would _ be fine if everyone at court would stop looking down their noses at him. The court emphasizes delicacy and aesthetics as a symbol of good upbringing and intelligence. They wear layer upon layer of clothing, stiff corsets and puffy skirts and breeches. Elaborate powdered wigs with whole magical dioramas on them. Heeled and platformed shoes that make walking incredibly difficult.

Taako is in heaven. Magnus sticks out like a sore thumb. 

The court—especially the more sedate, older members of the court—like Davenport in his pressed uniform, with his neat mustache. They love Lucretia’s intelligence and her—in part feigned—elegance. They  _ adore _ the twins, who picked up on the connection between aesthetics and social capital first and immediately set about exploiting it. Barry hadn’t fared as well, to begin with, but he’s their science officer and the case for taking him seriously was more or less made by Lup taking offense at his initial dismissal and roping Taako into convincing the entire court that Barry is seeing both of them.

Honestly, it’s been sixty-eight years. It’s not like they have personal boundaries with each other anymore. Taako draping himself over Barry is just a normal day aboard the Starblaster.

Magnus had pouted about it. Taako could have been  _ his _ fake boyfriend and helped  _ him _ out, but no—Lup asked first.

Merle is gone. He’d opted to try parley early this cycle. The court hadn’t appreciated him much either.

So it’s been  _ seven months _ of Magnus being on his best behaviour, but still being judged as too big and too rowdy and too stupid at every turn, and he is  _ tired _ of it. He’s itching for some action, almost wishing the next five months would speed by so he could fight the Hunger, wishing that they’d just  _ give up _ on trying to negotiate with a bunch of stuck up courtiers who obviously think they’re too important to give up the light of creation, even to a bunch of aliens who came down from the sky in a big ship. That had gotten the crew’s foot in the door as a novelty, but now they’re stagnating, talking in circles and going to parties while Taako and Lup come up with more and more elaborate outfits.

It sucks.

Magnus is sulking in the expertly manicured court gardens, hands tucked in the pockets of his Starblaster jacket, when he sees the best thing he’s seen in ages. Two young men, dripping in jewels and brocade, wigs slightly askew, looking like they’re about to throw down.

There’s a small crowd around them as they shove each other. The smaller of the two stumbles back, almost trips over a bush, and then swings a wild arm, socking the bigger man in the jaw and causing  _ him _ to reel back.

Magnus’s hands feel itchy just watching.

The small crowd gathered around them is murmuring in delight at the scandal of a  _ physical altercation _ taking place at court, and Magnus realizes, in that moment, that he’s been playing things wrong this entire time. He’s been acting meek and mild, like a bear trying to play at being a housecat. It’s not who he is and he’s  _ bad _ at it. The court isn’t ever going to respect him for that, so why has he even bothered?

Magnus rolls his shoulders and wades into the fight in progress, grinning widely. The court loves the Lup-Barry-Taako triangle for the scandal of it. Magnus can definitely give them a scandal. “Hello, excuse me,” he says, stepping between the two men and their awkward attempts to hit each other properly. They both have to look up to make eye contact, even in their heels. Magnus cracks his knuckles. “Are you fighting? I’d like to join.”


	6. Taako pushing things off tables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: do you think that taako pushes things off of tables? the thb are at leon's and while the others are getting their items taako's just Wreaking Havoc on leon's desk
> 
> (Briefly, my blog was all about cat-like elves, based on speculation that their eyes would glow in the dark and their ears twitch. This was a ficlet that resulted.)

Taako plays the part well, but he’s a grown elf. He knows how the gachapon works. It’s just that pretending  _ not _ to know has become one of the funniest fucking things to ever happen to him. Magnus is playing with his new toy and Merle’s trying to do a coin trick to get his token in the slot. Leon has abandoned his desk to watch with resigned horror and disappointment, hovering at Merle’s side, looking like he’s a split second away from snatching the token away from Merle and declaring this whole thing over.

One day Leon is going to quit and it’s going to be all their fault. Taako’s not even sure how quitting the Bureau of Balance would work. Could you be  _ de-inoculated_? Would that require a second secret backup voidfish?

Taako leans against Leon’s desk, rolling Leon’s pen back and forth between his hands. It earns him a disgruntled frown, but only a momentary one before Merle losing his coin somewhere in his shirt becomes an issue which distracts them  _ all_, because Merle immediately begins dancing around, tugging at his shirt like he’s about to rip it off over his head.

“Merle, you don’t have to strip,” Magnus says. “Leon, help him!”

Taako’s so busy snickering, he misses catching the pen and it rolls onto the floor. Taako eyes it with interest, ears perking up because yes. Okay. This is definitely more entertaining than the noting he’s doing now.

Leon glances back at him. “Taako, please don’t play with my things,” he says. “Merle, you don’t have to unbuckle your pants if the token fell up your sleeve, you—okay, you’re doing it anyway.”

In Merle’s defense, he does find the token inside his pants. Taako doesn’t want to know how it got there from his sleeve. 

“Is that still legal tender?” Taako asks, prodding a small notebook across Leon’s desk.

“Yes, the token is still good,” Leon says. “We do reuse them, Merle. Please. Just take the token and put it into the slot. It’s easy. You’ve done this before. I know you can—Taako, what are you doing?”

Leon’s notebook hits the floor with a  _ very _ satisfying thump.

“Nothing,” Taako says, making absolutely no move to pick the notebook up.

Leon watches him for a moment longer, then turns back to the disaster that is Merle Highchurch.

Taako looks at Magnus, then glances down at Leon’s coffee cup. Magnus muffles his giggling with a hand and nods his approval of Taako’s  _ brilliant _ plan.

Taako starts pushing the cup towards the edge of the desk. Merle gets his token in the slot and cranks the handle to get his prize.

Leon turns to Taako just in time to catch sight of his mug, perched precariously on the edge of his desk. “Taako!” he snaps, like he’s yelling at a naughty pet. “No!”

Taako looks up from the mug, meets Leon’s eyes, and smiles, all slow and self-satisfied. Doesn’t look away for a second as he pushes one last time and the cup falls—splashing coffee  _ everywhere _ as it goes—and shatters into a million pieces on the floor.

Leon looks ready to murder him.

“Oops,” Taako says, staying right where he is, leaning on the desk. “So is it my turn yet or not?”


	7. Barry and Kravitz a year after These Unfinished Creatures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: What are things like a year after the events of These Unfinished Creatures?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ficlet should really be read after [These Unfinished Creatures](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12434553/chapters/28300203) or it probably won't make much sense!

Kravitz isn’t sure he’ll ever get used to waking up next to someone, to watching the slow rise and fall of Taako’s chest in those first early hours of the morning, when the rest of the household is asleep. For all he enjoys indulging the return of habits he’d long forgotten, like sleep, Kravitz doesn’t require much of it. Sometimes it leaves him with long stretches where he’s the only one in the house awake. Long stretches of silence, of time to read or compose music in his head or on the manuscript paper Taako acquired for him. Kravitz doesn’t bother attempting to hide the less human elements of his physical form anymore, not unless he’s working. It means darkvision isn’t an issue while he’s writing, which is good, because Taako may be an elf, but he’s  _ very _ fond of sleep and prefers a dark bedroom for it.

He insists it’s a necessary part of his beauty regime. Comments about how  _ unnecessary _ that regime seems to Kravitz, who has now experienced Taako at his worst—sick as a dog, sweaty from the fever, unable to keep food down—and still thought he was beautiful are not met with a favourable reception. 

It’s been centuries since Kravitz was in a relationship. He’s still learning.

The sky outside their small bedroom is pink as dawn breaks, the sun trying to fight its way through the clouds. There’s a thick blanket of snow outside and more falling, big flakes coming down fast, which means it’s unlikely Barry or Lup will be leaving for work at the university today. Taako might even get the day off from his job at the teashop.

Kravitz glances at his boyfriend again, still asleep, cocooned in the duvet and snoring softly, and then slips out of bed. He’s not allowed to cook—hasn’t been since he ruined one of Taako’s good pans attempting eggs—but he  _ is _ allowed to boil the kettle for tea and the house is chilly enough that making a pot will put him in everyone’s good books for the day. He’s up anyway. He might as well.

Kravitz conjures clothing as he steps into the hall—trousers and a shirt, a waistcoat, but nothing over it, and no tie—casual, for him. He pads down the stairs, keeping his step light, and is halfway down the hall when he hears the now-familiar sound of a stack of books falling over in the front parlour—a series of dull thuds that starts slow and ends fast as everything tips to the floor.

“Shit.”

Kravitz’s lips twitch into a smile and he reverses directions, heading to the parlour and pushing the door open so he can observe Barry, bent down and trying to pile his books back onto a chair so they don’t fall straight back off again. “Need help with anything?”

“I don’t know. Do you think Mending would stop the room from  _ collapsing in on itself _ every time I tried to find a book?” Barry asks, pushing his glasses up his nose and then twisting where he kneels to look at Kravitz. “I tried using Prestidigitation to make things stick, but it didn’t work.”

“Mending might fix the cracked bindings on the books,” Kravitz says. “I don’t think it would do much to keep them from falling over. Forcecage?”

Barry makes a disgusted sound as he gets to his feet. “You and Taako deserve each other,” he says. “He’s the only other person I know who would suggest a seventh-level spell to make my organizational system slightly less precarious.”

Kravitz glances around the parlour. Most flat surfaces are covered with books or papers, piled as high as reasonably possible. Larger papers are rolled and leaned against walls, chairs, other papers—anything that might hold them. It’s not a situation that says  _ organized _ to him. The upright piano Taako bought for Kravitz, tucked into the corner of the room by the front window, boasts one of the few surfaces free of clutter, and that’s only because Kravitz plays it regularly enough that there isn’t time for things to accumulate on the fallboard. He’s long given up on keeping the top of it clear. “Do you… _have _ a system?”

“I have… _some_ idea of where everything is,” Barry says, after an extended pause. “That counts.”

He holds up the book in his hand, smiling at Kravitz. “I found what I was looking for. Have you read this one? The necromancer who wrote it dropped out of the scene shortly after completing it. He was obsessed with the Raven Queen, actually. Wrote a lot about her older rituals. It’s a great text, but there aren’t many still in existence. Not that I could find, anyway, and Lucretia’s been asking around with the other university libraries for me, but so far none of have turned up. It’s a bit of a collector’s item now, I think. There are quite a few libraries that discovered they were  _ missing _ copies when we asked.”

Kravitz peers at the book in Barry’s hand as he talks. It’s old, the red leather cover is starting to crack with age, the embossing worn almost flat. Kravitz can just make out a name—Dryden Lanchester-Cine. 

The name is familiar because Kravitz is the reason Lanchester-Cine  _ dropped out _ of the necromancy scene. Kravitz, in fact, removed him from the material plane entirely. He’d been obsessed not with the Raven Queen, but with overthrowing her, with ousting her from the astral plane so the demon Orcus could replace her as arbiter of life and death. Part of his obsession had been the slow and steady collection of rituals associated with the Raven Queen. Rituals used by her most faithful followers, used to ask for her blessing, to ask her to allow extra time for the ill, to beg an audience with her avatars, with Kravitz, and to summon the Raven Queen herself.

Kravitz had tracked down as many copies of the book as he could over the years so he could destroy it.

Barry must see something in his expression because he stops detailing his and Lucretia’s investigation into other copies of the book. “Oh,” he says. “I, uh, I guess Dryden Lanchester-Cine was one of yours, huh?”

Kravitz sighs. This wasn’t how he’d planned on starting his day. “Barry,” he says. “He was a necromancer obsessed with the Raven Queen and he disappeared.”

“Right,” Barry says. “When you put it that way, it does seem kind of obvious.” He hesitates for a moment, looking at the book in his hand. “Can I… keep the book? It’s  _ very _ rare.”

“You were keeping it in the middle of a stack of other necromantic tomes.”

“I know.” Barry pulls the book closer to his chest, wrapping his arms protectively around it. “It’s just Williams, one of my students, has taken a keen interest in the Raven Queen as viewed by necromancers and she’s thinking of doing her thesis on Lanchester-Cine’s work, with a special focus on extinct rituals, and it… I…” He trails off and sighs. “I’m going to have to have a talk with her, aren’t I?”

Kravitz raises an eyebrow at Barry, mouth twisting into a wry smile. “Unless you’d like  _ me _ to pay her a visit I think that would be best, yes.”

“I really liked Williams,” Barry says, holding the book out to Kravitz. “She gets so excited about the cadaver labs. I guess maybe that should have been a clue.”

Kravitz looks at the book in Barry’s hand. He’s destroyed almost every copy of it. Reaped the souls of most of the book’s owners—the ones who knew what they had, at least—but here’s Barry, offering it to him without a fight after some very minor protesting.

Kravitz pushes the book back towards him. “Keep it,” he says. “I’m sure it was expensive. Just please do remember not to  _ try _ any of the rituals.”

“Yeah, no, that would be awkward to explain,” Barry says. “I won’t do anything to upset the Raven Queen. Lup and Taako would be... very unhappy with both of us if I did.”

Kravitz is the right-hand of the Raven Queen. Her most trusted, most beloved servant. His soul is tied to his goddess and he is functionally immortal.

He has absolutely zero desire to deal with a Lup and Taako as a united front against him for doing something as stupid as reaping Barry’s soul.

“Gods, yes.” Kravitz needs tea. Maybe some of Hecuba’s sherry. “You stay away from the rituals. I look the other way on you owning the book. Nobody ever needs to know.”

Barry pointedly tucks the book into the middle of a different, more sturdy, pile of academic detritus. “Deal.”

“I was going to put the kettle on,” Kravitz says, after a long pause. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Oh, uh, sure. That would be great, bud,” Barry says. He hesitates, then starts towards the door. “I’m allowed to make toast. We could—breakfast?”

“Tea and toast sounds excellent,” Kravitz agrees, following Barry out of the parlour, to the kitchen. “Tell me more about your students. I’ll tell you who needs talking to. Apparently you need the help.”

Barry and Kravitz are wildly divergent in their take on things, but their interests are often intertwined. They have long conversations about death, conversations now banned from the dinner table because it was getting too morbid, according to Taako. Their friendship is… unconventional, built on a careful balancing act of seeing and not seeing, knowing and not knowing.

It’s strange, but so far, it works.


	8. Kravitz becomes a reaper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: How did Kravitz become a reaper?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although this is technically from [These Unfinished Creatures](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12434553/chapters/28300203), it occurs before the fic and stands alone without it as it's still set in Faerun. Kravitz's appearance in this fic was inspired by terror-in-the-dream's [beautiful take on Kravitz.](http://terror-in-the-dream.tumblr.com/post/160758128324/kravitz)

Kravitz comes into the world already touched by death. His mother, when the other children make fun of Kravitz for the pale patch of skin around his eye, smoothes her hand over his tightly curled hair and tells him he was kissed by the Raven Queen—that he’s not odd, but special. Chosen. Blessed.

Kravitz could do with a little less blessing in his life. Less blessing would probably mean less temple and as much as Kravitz likes the priestesses of the Raven Queen, being cooed over by tall women in feathered robes gets old after a while, especially when you’re seven and your feet itch to run and all you have to play with as you sit on hard benches are the raven feathers and glass beads your parents have you offer the goddess at the end of each service.

Everyone tells him that his vitiligo is a sign from the Raven Queen, that he’s been signaled out for a great destiny in her service, but Kravitz can’t think of anything that sounds worse. A life as a cleric, in and out of temples, telling kids off just because they suggest _one_ time that maybe it would be nice to bring their cat back to life.

Kravitz hasn’t even had a visit from the Raven Queen, which the priestesses keep saying should only be a matter of time now. He doesn’t _want_ a visit from a goddess or to spend his whole life dedicated to her. He wants to play and be like the other children, to decide for himself what his future will hold. His family aren’t followers of Istus—he should be able to choose his own fate, no matter what some superstitious priestesses think he should do.

It’s a superstitious priestess, though, who takes Kravitz to see the orchestra for the first time. Kravitz, who is convinced it’ll just be a louder version of temple, who is sullen about the questionable honour being bestowed upon him in the face of his parents’ excitement. Kravitz, who falls deeply, utterly in love before the end of the first song—whose little heart soars in his chest at the swelling of the strings and the sound of the woodwinds cutting clean through the cacophony of the brass and the drums, who’s on the edge of his seat all night, captivated by the sight of the man at the centre of it all, commanding the attention of every musician, dressed in a tailored suit, leading them fearlessly through the score with his baton—the conductor.

It’s a superstitious priestess who, knowing his family’s shop doesn’t earn enough extra income to buy music lessons, teaches Kravitz to play first the harpsichord and then, when he takes to it like a duck to water, the temple organ.

Services are a lot less dull when Kravitz is allowed to play during them. His parents are happy and the priestesses agree smugly that they’ve found the duty that Kravitz is meant for.

Kravitz aches for more, though. He aches to compose, to conduct, to learn everything he can about music. He reads anything he can get his hands on, stumbles onto bardic magic and begins to practice it—first covertly, then out in the open, as he grows older and feels less indebted to the temple and everything they’ve done for him. Kravitz is a person, not a doll. He’s allowed to make his own choices, allowed to refuse the life he’s being pushed towards.

Kravitz’s little brother is a surprise, born when Kravitz is seventeen.

Kravitz could resent his brother for being born without any markings, for not having vitiligo that creeps over his dark brown skin—no pale patch around his eye destined to spread wider as he gets older, until the skin around his eyes and nose are nearly stark white, his upper lip light pink. For just being a normal, healthy baby.

He could resent him, but instead Kravitz falls in love again. This new little being in his life makes him smile, makes him learn how to cast powerful illusion magic just to see his brother laugh when Kravitz changes the colours of the walls in the room or his toys for his brother’s amusement. Kravitz writes soft, sweet lullabies to soothe the baby to sleep, careful to keep his magic from creeping into his voice when he sings them.

Kravitz resists the expectation to join the temple. Kravitz’s skin gives him away as someone tied to death, but most people don’t mind if the musician they hire bears the Raven Queen’s mark—they just want someone affordable who can play something they can dance to.

So Kravitz plays and Kravitz composes and Kravitz yearns for bigger, better things as part of an orchestra. His relationship with his parents grows strained as years pass and he ignores their pointed comments about the temple. His relationship with his little brother stays strong, even as his brother joins, half-heartedly, in telling Kravitz he shouldn’t resist the call of his goddess.

Kravitz’s isn’t resisting her call. The Raven Queen still hasn’t come to him. She kissed his eye when he was in the womb and then left her mark to grow.

This thing they call a gift, the marks on his skin, feel like punishment and reward all at once. The temple introduced him to music, taught him to play; the temple wants him to put aside all dreams of large audiences and fancy suits to spend his days writing new hymns.

Kravitz grows older, grows his hair long and twists it into dreadlocks. He saves his money and buys the nicest suit he can afford. He tries to live a life separate from his destiny. He stops going to temple. He talks to his brother but ignores his parents.

Kravitz’s brother is kidnapped when Kravitz is nearly thirty. There’d been other missing persons around Waterdeep, but it’s a big city with a big population—even the fact that the other people missing are young followers of the Raven Queen hadn’t been enough to make Kravitz worry for his brother’s safety. Even the pieces of the bodies washing up on the shore hadn’t worried him—apparently they should have.

He goes back to his parents and back to the temple.

Necromancers, the priestesses say. Necromancers working against the Raven Queen, against her rules and regulations. Waterdeep has more than one temple to the Raven Queen. The congregations had been warned to be cautious, been warned not to go out alone. The militia is investigating.

Kravitz can hold his own in a fight, but combat isn’t a skill he’s cultivated. Kravitz is a musician, a bard—not militia. He has no place joining them in the search for his brother.

A particularly unlucky militia officer admits, under Zone of Truth, that they have no idea where to even begin their search, that they’re in the dark.

Kravitz takes matters into his own hands. Kravitz goes looking for the cult who want to hurt his brother.

Instead, he finds the Raven Queen.

He’s in the woods outside the city and it’s dark—the night still and quiet around him except for the gentle crackling of his fire—and then a being emerges from the trees. She is made of shadows darker than the night and towers over Kravitz. A single wave of her long arm extinguishes his fire.

Kravitz drops to his knees. He hasn’t been to temple in a long time, hasn’t made offerings in her name, but Kravitz recognizes his goddess by her presence.

“My Queen,” he says, head bowed.

“Am I still?” The Raven Queen asks, her voice dissonant, ringing with the moans of mourners.

Kravitz winces and she bends towards him, hooking a talon that’s cold like steel until her chin. She lifts his face and holds him there, gazing down into his eyes—his soul—like she’s measuring him.

Kravitz’s head aches from looking at her, although his mind won’t commit to a single image of what she is. One moment she’s a woman in a feathered mask with a long, terrible beak, the next a blur of empty, unbearable darkness, and then again something skeletal with hollow cheeks and skin like black glass.

“You seek your brother,” she says. “You wish to save him.”

It’s not a question, but Kravitz answers anyway. “Yes.”

The Raven Queen’s sigh echoes through the trees around them, a dark augury of things to come. “My child, you will find him,” she says, and suddenly Kravitz knows—suddenly the path to where his brother is being kept is in his mind, a clear map to where he’s held. A clear image of what the cult who has him wishes to do.

A sacrifice—the life of a faithful follower of the Raven Queen used to weaken her power. A soul destroyed to strike a blow against the natural order of life and death. A soul used to weaken the barrier between the astral and material planes. His brother’s soul, gone, forever—no rejoining the cycle, no rebirth or new life, just… gone.

Kravitz cannot allow that to happen.

The Raven Queen’s talons brush against his cheek, trace the markings there. “You will find him. With my mark on you, they will accept you as a sacrifice in his stead.”

Kravitz’s heart stutters in his chest at thought of being destroyed so utterly, of being consumed by their magic, but it is a brief and passing flash of fear, easy to push past. “I want to save my brother,” he says. “I’ll do anything.”

The Raven Queen tilts her head and as her form shifts again Kravitz thinks he sees her smile with a mouth full of long, sharp fangs, like a creature risen from the depths of the sea. “Then, my child, I offer you a terrible choice,” she says. “Your life is forfeit. Istus has seen that. You are the living dead, but your _soul_ —perhaps that we can save.”

It’s a cold comfort, but Kravitz knows about the natural order of things, believes that the cycle of souls through the astral plane is how it should be. Even if he doesn’t go to temple anymore, he’s no less her follower in this moment, no less firm in his conviction that that is the way things should be: you die and your soul returns to the astral plane. There, it is cleansed and, one day, you are born anew.

“You misunderstand,” the Raven Queen says. There is sadness in her voice, a creeping sorrow that Kravitz feels echoed in his chest when she speaks. “You will never return to the cycle. That I cannot change. However…” She pauses as she looks at him, hesitant to continue on, and Kravitz thinks whatever offer she is about to make will not be a pleasant one.

“I do not know what happens, when a soul is destroyed,” she says. “I imagine you would feel no pain, no longing. You would cease to exist, but there is peace in that. Perhaps one greater than can be found in the natural order of things. The choice I offer you holds no such peace, Kravitz.” The Raven Queen lets go of his face and Kravitz does not move. He stays on his knees, looking up at her. “If you pledge yourself to me, I will bind your soul to my protection. You will die, when you save your brother, but your soul will be mine. You will become my charge—a member of my retinue. You will be of me and I of you.

“You must understand, Kravitz. This is not an offer to be taken lightly—it cannot be undone. You will cease to exist as you are now. You will become something other, imbued with my powers. There will be no rest as my emissary. You will have a role to play in maintaining the balance of life and death. You will be eternal, as I am eternal.”

It is a terrible choice. Either way, the person Kravitz is now will be gone. Either way, he dies. “What role would you have me play?”

The Raven Queen reaches out again, stroking Kravitz’s cheek. “You will be pained,” she says. “You will be angry. You will be full of love and fury. You will think of your brother and the suffering you were able to save him from only to experience yourself. It will be centuries before you are calm.” She bends, pressing lips cold as ice to Kravitz’s forehead. “I would have you use your wrath to destroy those who trespass against me. I would have you keep the natural balance in check. I would have you start with the men who will kill you.”

Kravitz lets out a shuddering breath, one of his last. He nods, just once. “That’s my choice,” he says. “I choose to be your emissary. I choose to be yours.”

The Raven Queen’s clawed and feathered hands slip down and sink into Kravitz’s chest. It’s cold cold cold, but painless—painless, until he feels a sharp tug at the center of his being, and then the Raven Queen is stepping back, cupping a softly glowing ball of light in her hands and Kravitz recognizes it as the very core of him, as his soul.

The air around it shimmers, seems to hum faintly with music, and as Kravitz watches the Raven Queen raises his soul to her mouth and swallows it whole.

“My reaper,” she says, turning her attention back to him, her voice still sad, but fond. “Rise and meet your fate.”

Kravitz wakes up alone in the woods. In his mind he has a clear picture of the route to the cave where the cult is keeping his brother. His chest feels hollow, but he’s not scared. Kravitz knows what happens next, knows what he has to do. He stands and leaves his belongings and supplies where they are, abandons his camp as it because he doesn’t need anything here anymore. He turns, and he starts towards the cave, heading down a path he was always meant to walk.


	9. Taakitz fake dating AU pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Kravitz's weird pushy mom, aka the Goddess of Death, keeps trying to set him up with people, despite having only the loosest of grasps on the concept of "dating," "attractive" or "romance." Clearly a fictional boyfriend is the solution. Lup, who Kravitz knows solely as "keeps getting her boyfriend off of minor necromancy charges by beating me at poker" may have a solution in the form of her chronically single brother. It's a match made in Something."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone asked me if I'd ever write fake dating, to which I replied yes, if I had an idea. I was promptly supplied with ideas.

“I’m sorry, you did  _ what_?”

“Calm down, babe,” Lup says, as if she hadn’t just admitted to  _ selling him _ to the literal Grim Reaper.

“I am  _ not _ going on a date with  _ Death_.” Now that he says it out loud, it does sound goth as fuck, but Taako is also  _ not for sale_, thank you very much. “What the fuck, Lulu?”

Lup shrugs and continues to eat the chocolate chip cookie she absolutely does not deserve anymore. Taako reaches out and pulls the plate of cookies to his side of the table, glaring at her.

“You know how Barry’s dissertation research has him looking at correlations between cult rituals and mainstream necromantic spells?” Lup asks, like Taako hasn’t watched Barold scare away strangers literally everywhere they take him for the past five years. “Well, there’s sort of been… you know, a problem when he starts  _ testing _ those correlations because he’s maybe breaking the laws of life and death occasionally? Only minor infractions.”

Taako glances at Barry, also present, looking sheepish beside his sister. “What the fuck, Barold?”

“Science is the art of testing your hypothesis and making sure you get repeatable results,” Barry says. “It’s not like I  _ mean _ to do it. It’s just—you know, you never really know with these old rituals, whether they’ll work or not, and it’s not like someone pops up right away to tell you you broke the rules. It takes them a while to get to you, and by then you’ve done a few more and…” Barry trails off and shrugs.

“Right,” Lup agrees. “So Barry does his experiments and everything  _ seems _ good, and then Kravitz shows up and starts talking about how he’s broken the rules of life and death and—”

Taako holds up a hand, stopping her. “Kravitz?”

“Oh, right. That’s his name,” Lup says.

“The Grim Reaper’s name… is Kravitz.” Taako glances at Barry, for confirmation of the fact that Lup and the Grim Reaper are on a first name basis, and Barry just nods like this is all perfectly reasonable. “Okay. Kravitz. Sure. Go on.”

Lup rolls her eyes. “So Kravitz shows up and gives his speech, and then we play a couple rounds of poker for Barry’s soul. He’s  _ really _ bad at cards and, you know, I cheat. So  _ last _ time we were playing I was asking him how the Raven Queen was doing—”

“You fucking  _ what_?” Taako sputters.

“Can I  _ finish_?” Lup gives him a dirty look. “She’s like his mom. It’s fine. You can ask people how their parents are doing, Taako. So I  _ asked him _ how she was doing and how death was treating him. You know, the usual, and he said she’s been trying to set him up with a bunch of emissaries for other gods and it’s not going well, so he told her he’d been seeing someone and she wouldn’t know them because they were mortal, but now she wants to meet him except this fictional mortal boyfriend is fictional. And all I had in my hand was a pair of threes.”

“I can’t believe you traded  _ my immortal soul _ for Barold’s.”

“I didn’t trade your soul, Taako. I traded three fake dates. Barry’s got a free pass for minor charges for the next three  _ months_. This is a good deal.”

“You told the Grim Reaper— _literal _ Death—that I would be his pretend boyfriend.” Taako doesn’t know why Lup is acting like this isn’t a big deal. Maybe when your fridge was half-full of organs in jars you got used to some weird shit.

“Yeah,” Lup says. “He wasn’t sure at first, but I told him you’d be down.”

Taako flings out his arms to express how very  _ un-down _ he is with this whole plan. “Do I seem down to you, Lup? Does this look like someone who is into going on a fake-date with Death and meeting a fucking  _ goddess_? My love life is not that desperate.”

“Do you  _ want _ Barry to go to hell jail?” Lup asks. “Come on, Taako. It’s three dates. Kravitz can’t possibly be any worse than your last boyfriend.”

Lup… may actually have a point there. Taako glances at Barry, who’s sipping his coffee and doesn’t look the least bit worried about the outcome of this conversation. Taako hates how well Barry knows him sometimes.

“Fucking fine,” he says. “I guess I’m just going to pretend that this is a normal way for me to spend my weekends.”

“Good,” Lup says. “Because he’s coming over today.”

Taako gives Lup a very, very unimpressed look. “You invited me over assuming I’d say yes to this convoluted, nonsense plan?”

“Babe. This is Barry’s soul we’re talking about,” Lup says. “And it’s not like you’ve got much else going on right now.”

Taako hates his sister. “I’m raiding your closet,” he says, getting to his feet. He’d dressed for a lazy family afternoon—leggings, a shapeless lump of a sweater that reaches his knees—not a date. “Save some cookies for Death.”

Taako grumbles to himself all the way to Lup and Barry’s bedroom. He strips out of his comfortable clothes and pulls on a crop top and a skirt. He takes his hair out of the messy bun he had it in and braids it. He’s got no makeup with him and who  _ knows _ if he’d have time to fix himself up properly, but a quick glamour does the job for him. He’s coming down the stairs, heading back to the kitchen, when he hears a sound like fabric tearing.

“I apologize for being late,” says a soft, faintly accented voice from in the kitchen. “A problem arose with a small cult and I had to deal with it before I was free.”

“Oh, no problem, Ghost Rider,” Lup says. “Taako’s just upstairs.”

Taako takes a deep breath and steps into the kitchen. “Taako’s here,” he says, and pauses in the doorway. Death is… pretty much exactly what Taako expected. It’s kind of disappointing, honestly. He’s a skeleton with fiery eyes and a cowled black robe holding a scythe. He  _ is _ wearing a snazzy suit, which is a step in the right direction, but still.

Taako leans against the counter and raises an eyebrow at Death. “Hey thug? I don’t know if you know this, but the whole spooky skeleton thing is  _ really _ not going to fly out in the mortal world.”

“Oh, yes. Sorry. Like I said, work.” Death lets go of the scythe and it disappears into the ether. His flesh starts to fill in and it’s kind of gross, but also kind of fascinating to watch, especially because it becomes obvious, very quickly, that Death is… hot.

Death has high cheekbones and full lips. Death has dreads decorated with gold beads and blood red eyes. Death has a lovely smile and teeth that hint at being fangs. Death bows, like a dork, in front of him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Taako,” Death says. “I’m Kravitz.”

Taako looks at Lup over Kravitz’s bowed head, wide-eyed, and sees her smirking at him, self-satisfied and smug, a woman who knows  _ exactly _ what she’s just done.

“Motherfucker,” Taako says.

Kravitz looks up, his brow charmingly furrowed with worry. “I’m… sorry?”

“Not you, bubelah. You’re golden,” Taako promises, reaching up and patting Kravitz’s—very cold—cheek. “That was specifically and emphatically for my sister.”

“Love you too,” Lup says, her smirk widening into a full on shit-eating grin. “You boys have a  _ lot _ to discuss. Barry and I will leave you to it. Krav, make sure to try the cookies. Taako baked them himself and they’re to  _ die _ for.”

Kravitz rolls his eyes. “Still not a good goof.”

“Mm, agree to disagree. Come on, babe.” Lup hooks her arm through Barry’s and tugs him out of the kitchen. Barry doesn’t seem to need much convincing. He’s giving Kravitz a  _ wide _ berth. “Taako and Kravitz need to talk about the dates they’d about to go on.”

Taako watches Lup and Barry leave, then turns back to Kravitz and his extremely handsome face. Fake dating the Grim Reaper, who happens to be gorgeous and powerful and well-dressed. Okay, sure. Why the fuck not? Taako will just spend the next three weeks pretending he’s not far, far too gay for this shit.

He puts a hand on his hip, cocks it. “So,” he says. “What’s your opinion on wine and pottery? Because oh  _ boy_, have I got a first date in mind for you.”


	10. Taakitz fake dating AU pt. 2+3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Precursor scenes to part one, written after it was posted.

Kravitz is neck deep in paperwork when he feels the familiar tug on his soul that means the Raven Queen is calling for him. He closes his eyes and when he opens them again, he’s in her throne room, kneeling before her.

“My child,” the Raven Queen says, her voice echoing with the sound of carrion birds. She is an absence of life, the suggestion of feathers and claws and teeth—a beautiful woman and a nightmare all at once. She is his Queen. “I have seen the ledgers of life and death and the debts owed to our realm.”

“My productivity has been up this month,” Kravitz says, because it’s true, even if he  _does_  keep letting Barry Bluejeans off the hook.

“I know,” the Raven Queen says. Of course she does. “I did not call you here to chastise you, nor to praise you—my dearest Reaper, you are  _lonely_.”

Oh no. Kravitz sits back on his heels, looking up at Queen, unimpressed. “My Queen, please don’t—”

“Oghma has many children,” she says. “Children with a love of music. I would think—”

“I’m going back to doing my paperwork now,” Kravitz says, getting to his feet. Transportation to the Raven Queen’s side takes an instant. Getting back to his office will be a trek. “ _Please_  stop trying to set me up with demigods.”

*

Kravitz shouldn’t be able to get headaches, and yet as he steps through a portal into the Bluejeans household’s unfinished basement and sees Lup, sitting at the coffee table beside a plate of muffins and a pot of tea, he can feel one coming on. “Lup,” he says. “Your husband’s been meddling with the forces of life and death again.”

“He’s almost finished with the experimental part of his research. You’ve helped a lot, actually. He’s already written you into the acknowledgments of his dissertation,” Lup says. “Pineapple coconut muffin? My brother made them this morning.”

Kravitz gives in to the urge to rub his temples. “We  _cannot_  keep doing this.”

“Look, do you want to play cards or what?” Lup asks. “Because I could take my muffins and go.”

“Your husband’s soul would be forfeit,” Kravitz points out.

Lup raises an eyebrow at him. “Did I stutter?”

Kravitz hesitates, then walks over and takes his usual seat in Lup and Barry’s overstuffed armchair. “Fine.”

Lup pulls out a deck of cards, beginning to shuffle them. She has fast hands and Kravitz knows she cheats, but he can’t really bring himself to mind. Kravitz doesn’t get out much. Having a regular weekly game is… well, the  _circumstances_  aren’t ideal, but it’s still kind of nice and the snacks Lup’s brother makes are always delicious. “Best of three?” he says, reaching for a muffin. It’s not really a question. They always play at  _least_  three hands.

Lup grins, self-satisfied, and starts to deal the cards.


	11. Kravitz is Keats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kravitz is Lydia and Edward's younger brother, who died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for terezis when she reached 2k followers and is essentially me targeting her specifically.

Until Kravitz strikes the deal on Lup and Barry’s behalf, allowing them to serve as Reapers rather than go to hell jail, it never occurs to Taako to wonder how Kravitz wound up as the Grim Reaper. They’ve talked about Kravitz’s life and Kravitz’s undeath—Taako isn’t  _that_  self-centered, thank you very much—but not why he works for the Raven Queen.

He starts thinking about it because of Lup, because she stops by after work one day while Kravitz and Barry finish paperwork in the astral plane and slumps over his granite countertops. “I’m  _exhausted_. All these measly necromancers. Do you know how long it’s going to take to work off our debt at this rate?”

Taako pauses in searing the tuna that’s going to go on top of his nicoise salad. “Your debt?” he repeats.

“Yeah,” she says. “Our debt. Taako, how do you think bounty hunters for the Raven Queen get paid? We’re working off our lich debt. Except, babe—it’s  _so_  high. And necromancers count for so little. No wonder Kravitz wanted to bring Merle in so bad.”

Taako turns towards her, wide-eyed, as, for the first time, it occurs to him that he doesn’t know how Kravitz  _died_. They’ve never talked about it or what sort of debt he’s working off or what his plans are when that debt is repaid. Kravitz has been working for the Raven Queen for  _centuries_. Surely he must be getting close to done with his payment by now.

“Taako, you’re overcooking the tuna,” Lup says, and Taako snaps back to attention, swearing and flipping the fish in the pan.

Lup starts Taako thinking about it and then he can’t stop wondering. He watches Kravitz eat dinner, watches him play songs on the piano Taako bought when he moved into his Neverwinter home just so Kravitz could have it. He watches Kravitz go through all the mundane daily rituals of their life together and he wonders how his boyfriend died.

Kravitz has scars, is the thing. Taako eyes them that night, when Kravitz strips off his shirt to come to bed. He has a deep, angry scar, shaped like a “Y,” that runs down the center of his chest and makes it look like someone peeled him open—like someone wanted to examine him from the inside out. Taako’s kissed them, run his fingers over the smooth, raised skin, but he’s never  _asked_  and Kravitz has never told.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Kravitz says, once he has a pair of loose pajama bottoms on. He crawls into bed, shirtless, and reaches for Taako.

Taako’s still focused on his chest.

“Taako?”

He blinks, jerking his head up to look at Kravitz’s concerned face.

“Are you all right?”

“Peachy, my dude,” he says, only half a beat too late.

Kravitz, though, has perfect pitch and an impeccable sense of rhythm. He picks up on the hesitation right away. That, or he knows Taako well enough to see right through his posturing. “What’s wrong?”

There’s no good way to ask and Taako’s not exactly known for handling other people’s feelings with kid gloves. “How did you die?” he asks, and then winces. “That’s not—how come you’re a Reaper? Barry and Lup did a death crime. They were liches. But  _you_ … I mean, sorry, Krav. You just don’t seem like the criminal type.”

It’s Kravitz’s turn to look surprised. For a moment Taako thinks maybe he pushed things too far, but then Kravitz chuckles and leans back against his pillows. “It’s… complicated,” he says. “You’re right though. I was never a lich.”

“So?” Taako takes advantage of Kravitz’s supine position, draping himself over him. He can feel the scar that bisects Kravitz’s chest under him, but he’s trying not to think about it. He distracts himself by reaching up to play with one of the beads in Kravitz’s hair. “I’ve got nowhere else to be right now. I’m an elf and you’re dead so sleep isn’t really an issue.”

Kravitz snorts and combs his fingers through Taako’s hair. “If you really want to talk about it, we can talk about it.”

Taako thinks about Lup and Barry and the debt they’re paying off. He watched them rip their souls out of their bodies. It was for the right reasons. They shouldn’t be punished for it, but it—Taako’d been more terrified, watching them do it, than he had been of The Hunger.

Kravitz is still working for the Raven Queen, has been for centuries, and he was never a lich.

“Of course,” Taako says, tugging playfully, gently on the braid in his hand. “Tell me everything.”

“I never knowingly committed any crimes against the laws of life and death, but the way I died…” Kravitz’s free hand comes up and touches his scar almost absently. “It was a ceremony. Dark, very dark, and although I didn’t understand what was going to happen, I consented to being part of it. When it went wrong, and I died, I should have gone to the Eternal Stockade. Instead, my Queen took pity on me. She took me into her court and made me her emissary, gave me a job as a Reaper.”

Taako frowns because it—okay, the ceremony thing  _kind of_ tracks with what he knows about Kravitz, but the rest of it? Doesn’t quite match up with what Lup and Barry are dealing with. “How dark was this ceremony? Doesn’t really look like whatever cult you got yourself wrapped up in meant for you to live, bubelah.” He leans down and presses a kiss to the scar. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Kravitz promises, smiling down at him, briefly. “No, it’s—I was ill. All my life, but especially towards the end of it. Heart problems.” He shrugged. “My parents did the best they could for me. My father paid for specialist healers. My mother hummed songs to make me stronger. They both tried their best, but my father passed away when I was fifteen and then it was just me and my mother. My siblings came by occasionally, but there wasn’t much they could do for us. We couldn’t afford to pay for healers anymore. I worked when I could, played music for people, but then I’d slip into a fever or heart palpitations and be bedridden.”

“Wait, wait—hold up,” Taako says, sitting up slightly. “Did you say  _siblings_? You’ve never mentioned siblings before.”

“Half-siblings,” Kravitz says. “I don’t remember a lot about them. They blew in and out of my life and they were much, much older—from the elf side of the family, my father’s first marriage—but they were lovely. Beautiful and always impeccably dressed. They doted on me. Treated me like I was a child even when I was in my twenties, if I’m being honest. I think they always saw me as the baby of the family. Always bringing me presents. You would have liked them, I think.”

“Hell yeah. Gorgeous elves with the good sense to treat you like a little prince? We for sure would have gotten along,” Taako agrees, grinning up at Kravitz. “I can’t believe you never told me about them.”

“Well, you might in a moment,” Kravitz says. “My memories of them are… complicated. I was twenty-six when my mother passed away. We both worked, but she did far more than me. She could go out on market days and play and make money regardless of the weather. I—well, if it was too cold or too hot, I couldn’t take it. Too delicate. I always dreamt of playing in concert halls. Somewhere warm and well paying.”

“Of being a conductor,” Taako says.

Kravitz smiles, looking down at him and nodding. “Exactly. But, death.” Kravitz shrugs, because he’s been dead for centuries and he knows how this story ends, not like Taako, who feels like he’s on the edge of his seat.

“I got sick again,” Kravitz says. “It was the middle of winter. I got sick, and I wasn’t getting better. I still don’t know how they knew I needed help, but my brother and sister showed up at my door. They nursed me through the worst of a fever and then told me they had a plan.”

Kravitz grimaces and reaches down to touch the scar on his chest. “They’d found a spell. One they said would heal me for good. It would be dangerous, but… I was dying anyway. At the time, it seemed reasonable. I trusted their judgement. They were centuries older than me, beautiful, clever—they could always find money when we needed it, and their magic was strong. They were both impressive wizards. So… I agreed to the spell. The ceremony.” He looks down at Taako. “I probably don’t need to tell you that it wasn’t a healing spell they’d found.”

“Necromancy,” Taako says.

Kravitz nods. “They’d joined a necromantic circle. If healing spells weren’t going to sustain me, they were willing to look for other options. I didn’t know the details of the ceremony beforehand, but I consented to it. I agreed to let the circle perform the ritual that was supposed to save my life.” Kravitz tightens his grip on Taako slightly, pulls him closer to his cool body. “It didn’t.”

“Yeah, no fucking kidding.” Taako squirms closer, wiggling one of his legs between Kravitz’s thighs and resting his sharp chin on Kravitz’s collarbone. “You want to tell me about the ceremony?”

Kravitz thinks about it for a moment, petting Taako’s hair, and then nods. “I think I should. Like I said, I haven’t thought about it in centuries, but… they needed to do it during the waxing moon—when it was not quite full, but almost there. To harness its potential. I was sick again, feverish, but they couldn’t afford to wait another month. They brought me out to the woods where they had everything set up and tied me to a table. One of a pair of tables. I was delirious. I don’t remember much of the ceremony, except everyone was wearing black robes and I couldn’t help thinking how wrong that seemed, for them to be in all black. They were always so colourful in life.”

Kravitz’s hand in Taako’s hair stills and he lets out a breath. “I was strapped to the table and then someone else was brought out. They hadn’t—consented, the way I had. They weren’t willing. I tried to—I never saw their face. When they screamed, they were gagged. I tried to ask what was going on, but the ceremony had started by then. I remember the chanting, hooded figures holding torches above me. The cut of the knife into my chest. My sister’s face, as she opened me up. She was—determined. Her hands were steady and she reached into my chest and cut out my heart.”

Taako presses a hand, involuntarily, over the space where Kravitz’s heart should be, where it should beat. Kravitz reaches up and covers Taako’s hand with his own.

“My brother was doing the same thing to the other person who was there, with less care and precision. They traded, put that stranger’s heart in my chest, and then I think—I think the magic was supposed to take over, was supposed to seal the blood vessels together and heal my wounds. Their plan was to replace my failing heart with something new.” He pauses. “I died.”

It’s not like Taako didn’t know how this story ended. He’s not an idiot. Kravitz is dead. His boyfriend is the Grim Reaper. It still hurts, to hear  _how_  he died. Taako’s been gutted once, on a planet with way too many animals with sharp, pointy antlers. It hurt like a bitch to die that way. “Fuck, bones.”

Kravitz laughs and leans down to press a kiss to Taako’s forehead. “It was unpleasant,” he agrees. “And I died consensually participating in a  _very_  dark necromantic ritual. When I arrived in the astral plane, the Raven Queen was waiting for me. She offered me a choice. Either I could become a Reaper and work off the debt I’d accumulated by agreeing to the ritual, or I could serve my time in the Eternal Stockade. It would mean centuries of penance, either way, but my time would be shorter and more productive if I worked as a Reaper.” There’s a smile playing on Kravitz’s lips as he preens under Taako, a hint of pride when he speaks. “Very few souls bound for the Stockade are offered a position in my Queen’s court.”

“You’re such a dork,” Taako says. “So… how long?” They’re back to what’s been bugging him now. “Lup said she and Barry are going to spend centuries collecting bounties before they’re all paid up, but you weren’t a lich. How long have you got left on your debt?”

Kravitz blinks at Taako for a moment, then laughs. “Oh, I paid it off a long time ago,” he says. “It only took me a hundred and seventy-five years to pay her back and then I just… stayed on. I enjoy my work.” He touches Taako’s cheek and pulls him up, into a kiss. “And now? I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

“Sap,” Taako mumbled, but kisses Kravitz back, reaching up to bury his fingers in his hair and kiss him back. He lets the pace stay languid and soft, doesn’t try to push for more. “So wait.” Taako draws back to look at Kravitz. “You’re still technically a  _bounty hunter_ , right? How does she pay you?”

Kravitz hesitates, looking a little embarrassed. “Well, it’s… we worked out a deal, when I decided to stay on.”

Taako’s eyebrows raise. “Mm-hmm, I’d assume so,” he says. “Cha’boy wouldn’t work for free either.”

“It’s—well.” Kravitz reaches up to touch one of the gold beads in his hair. “Just little things,” he says. “You know, nice things.”

Taako looks at the bead, then at Kravitz’s slightly sheepish face, then at the bead again. “Krav,” he says. “My dude, are you telling me you hunt down  _dangerous necromantic cults_ and fucking—fucking _liches_  for a living and you get paid in  _baubles_?”

“They’re  _nice_  baubles,” Kravitz protests. “You like—the crystals in the living room window. You like those. And that necklace I gave you last week.”

“Oh my  _god_.” Taako lets out a cackle of laughter, rolling off of Kravitz’s chest. “I can’t believe you get paid in glass and shiny things.”

Kravitz is laughing too, flopping over on top of Taako and trying to kiss him into submission, to quiet his laughter. “You  _like_ shiny things.”

“Shiny things worth money! Shiny things like gold!” Kravitz’s hands find the spot on Taako’s sides where he’s most ticklish and dig in. Taako lets out another helpless cackle of laughter and swats at him. “Fuck you!”

Kravitz stops tickling him, face pressed against Taako’s shoulder, chuckling softly as Taako calms himself and catches his breath. “Were you worried about my debt?” he asks, when they’re both calmer.

Taako thinks about lying, for a moment. He could blow this off easy, but there’s a furrow to Kravitz’s brow and a serious look in his eyes. He reaches out, rubbing at that furrow with his thumb to erase it. “A little,” he admits. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t about to go poof on me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Kravitz promises, with a sincerity that Taako could never hope to muster. “Taako, I love you. If I had to cut another deal to stay in her service longer so I could be with you, I would.”

Taako cups Kravitz’s face in his hands, draws him into another kiss. “I know,” he says, stroking his thumbs over Kravitz’s cheekbones. “Don’t think for a second that I’m _letting_  you go fucking anywhere. You’re a dork and I can’t believe you get paid in trinkets, but you’re  _my_  dork.” He kisses Kravitz’s nose. “And the next time I see the Raven Queen I’ve  _really_  got to talk to her about compensation packages because seriously— _beads_ , Krav?”

Kravitz laughs and curls himself around Taako, his body warmer now. He presses a kiss to Taako’s neck. “Beads and time with you,” he says. “I can’t think of any deal I’d want more.”


	12. Barry and Kravitz go undercover as a couple pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Lup and Taako are on vacation, and Barry and Kravitz decide to infiltrate this necromantic gathering to gather information... only to find out after they've already shown up that it is, in fact, a necromantic COUPLES event, and now it's too late for them to go get their respective spouses without blowing their cover, so they just have to. Pretend to be a couple. Someone help them."

It’s not that Kravitz and Barry are workaholics, exactly, but Taako and Lup are off on a spa weekend and Barry has a hot tip from one of the friends he insists on referring to as _informants_ about a wine and cheese night for necromancers. It’s the kind of intelligence gathering opportunity that doesn’t come across Kravitz’s desk very often. Plus, Taako’s made some pointed comments about how Kravitz and Barry should spend more time together and work is the safest option without Taako and Lup around to act as a buffer. Otherwise he and Barry tend to get into arguments over the technicalities of the laws of life and death and whether or not Barry should be conducting _experiments_ in his basement when he’s working for the Raven Queen.

Kravitz does _like_ Barry, it’s just that they have… a _very_ different view of how life and death are meant to function.

Kravitz shows up outside the address Barry sent him wearing a black three-piece suit and a black shirt, with a subtly skull-patterned dark grey tie as a pop of colour. Barry, in jeans and a red sweater, takes one look at him and snorts in amusement. “Well, nobody’s gonna think we know each other that well, huh?”

“You said wine and cheese. Wine and cheese is fancy,” Kravitz says, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. Honestly he hadn’t even thought think about what he was wearing before leaving his and Taako’s place, but he likes suits and he’s not conjuring himself a pair of _jeans_.

“No, it’s, uh, it’s good. The skulls are very on brand,” Barry promises. “Maybe lose the jacket? The informant who invited me is a forty-year-old mom of three.”

Kravitz rolls his eyes and the jacket disappears. “Better?”

“Yeah, more toned down. Thanks, bud. I know _toned down_ isn’t exactly your and Taako’s vibe.” 

Kravitz can’t quite keep his mouth from quirking into a smile. “Not really, no.”

Barry pushes his glasses up his nose and grins. “Hey, you’ll get free wine and we’ll figure out if this is a social group or a cult. Win-win. Ready?”

Kravitz glances up at the tidy little townhouse they’re standing in front of. “When you are.”

Barry leads the way up the steps and rings the doorbell. When the door swings open, there’s a cheerful looking halfling on the other side. Her hair is short and grey and she’s wearing chunky jewelry and a bright green cardigan. She looks more like a soccer mom than a necromancer. “Ben!” She beams up at Barry. “Nancy said she invited you, but I didn’t think you’d come.” She turns to Kravitz, giving him a strangely assessing once over that puts him a bit on edge, and then holds out a hand. “I’m Deb, Nancy’s wife, and I’m _so_ pleased to meet you.”

“Kravitz,” he says, taking her hand in his and smiling. His name wasn’t broadcast into the minds of everyone in the planar system. He doesn’t need a fake one. “Thank you for inviting me, Deb.”

“You’re so _handsome_ ,” Deb says. “Ben, your husband is a _catch_. You know, I said to Nancy, I’ve seen the ring too, but some couples keep secrets and it’s not our place to pry, but _she_ said she didn’t think you were the type and I’ve got say—sorry, Kravitz—we couldn’t help speculating. I’m _so_ glad you came to couple’s night and we finally get to meet him.”

Kravitz stares at Deb, wide-eyed, then glances at Barry, who looks just as side-swiped by this as Kravitz feels.

There’s a moment of silence—a moment where there’s an opportunity for either Barry or Kravitz to say actually they’re _not_ a couple this is all just a misunderstanding—and then Barry wraps an arm around Kravitz’s waist and smiles. “Well, Krav’s wanted to meet my friends for a while. Right, hon?”

Kravitz closes his eyes for a moment and mentally resigns himself to the teasing Taako’s going to do when he finds out about this. “Yes,” he says. “I’ve just been _dying_ to hear more about what you all get up to.”

Deb laughs. “Well, if you’re _dying_ you’ve certainly come to the right place,” she says, and winks. “Come on in. Red or white, boys?”

“White for me, red for Krav,” Barry says, which is honestly a bit of a surprise. Kravitz hadn’t realized Barry knew his wine preference. Then again, Kravitz knows Barry prefers beer to vino.

“Kind of an opposites attract thing, huh?” Deb asks, glancing at Kravitz’s outfit. Suddenly the initial once over makes a _lot_ more sense. They definitely look mismatched.

“Oh, Kravitz is a performer,” Barry says, following her into the house and a busy sitting room. She leads them over to a sideboard with an array of glasses and a few open bottles of wine. “He always looks good. Sorry, babe. I’m speaking for you. That’s rude.”

“It’s fine,” Kravitz says, because it is—he’s still trying to get his legs back under him after the initial _husband_ shock. “Yes, I’m a musician.”

“A _musician_?” A middle aged human woman appears at Deb’s side and stoops to give her a quick kiss. “I’m Nancy, Deb’s wife. Ben, I can’t believe you’ve been keeping this gorgeous man all to yourself. Are you a bard, dear?”

“I am,” Kravitz says. “Kravitz. Nice to meet you.”

Deb passes him a hefty glass of wine. “Don’t mind Nancy. She’s nosy and like I said, we’ve been curious. I promise we’re a good group. Nobody’s going to bite.”

“Don’t make promises for me,” Nancy says, and winks at Kravitz.

Kravitz does his best not to be intimidated by a middle-aged mom who’s maybe had a few too many already tonight.

Deb rolls her eyes. “Flirt,” she says, voice rich with exasperated affection. “You’re going to scare Kravitz off and we only just got him here.”

Nancy laughs and gives her wife a pat on the shoulder. “Sorry, dear. You know I like a pretty face. We should let you two mingle. Get to know everyone. I know Ben loves talking shop. The tragedy of hosting these parties is not being able to sink your teeth into the work, you know? That’s why we all take turns. Don’t worry about that yet. Nobody’s going to expect you to host until you’ve been to at _least_ a month of these things. We’re a _very_ relaxed group. Deb and I tried joining a circle when we were younger and there was just _so_ much pressure to always be _on_ , you know? Always the robes and the chanting and the worship. I love my patron, don’t get me wrong, but it’s nice to be able to talk about your kids every once in a while too.” She reaches out and gives Kravitz’s arm a squeeze. “You two are going to _love_ it. I can tell and I have _great_ intuition.”

“Oh yeah,” Barry says. “This is… definitely, uh, shaping up to be a real interesting night.”

Kravitz takes a long pull from his wine glass as Nancy and Deb leave to talk to some of their other guests, turning to Barry and raising an eyebrow. “Couples night?”

“I guess… Nancy did tell me to bring someone special along,” Barry says, after a brief pause. “I just thought she meant someone interested in necromancy.”

Kravitz glances at the other people in the room. Most of them are older and most of them are coupled, standing in pairs scattered around the room. There’s a lot of hand holding going on. He drains the rest of his glass, then grabs a bottle to refill it. People are looking at them, but Kravitz gets the feeling the looks are born out of curiosity over the new faces in their midst, not suspicion over their presence. “Can we agree not to—”

“Tell Taako and Lup about this?” Barry asks, already nodding in agreement. “Please.”

“Thank the Queen,” Kravitz says, but quietly because it’s really not the kind of prayer he should be saying in a room full of necromancers. “Can you imagine?”

Barry laughs and puts on a passable imitation of Taako’s voice. “You pretended to be married to _Barold_ , bones? Did our vows mean _nothing_ to you?”

Kravitz snorts. “Exactly. And Lup would… never stop laughing.”

“She wouldn’t. Ever,” Barry agrees, letting out a wistful sigh. He takes a long sip of wine, then holds a hand out to Kravitz. “You ready?”

Kravitz grabs the wine to top of Barry’s glass for him, then links their fingers together. “Let’s do this. Babe.”

It’s surprisingly painless. Once Barry gets another couple started talking about the latest rituals they’ve performed and whether or not they’ve heard of a good local cult to join, the _couple_ thing starts to matter a lot less and the necromancer thing a lot more. Barry lets go of Kravitz’s hand so he can sketch out a ritual circle and Kravitz consciously puts his hand on Barry’s back. Easy and preformative. Kravitz takes mental notes of the names and level of competence and involvement of the people they talk to.

As a strategy, it works until someone decides to take pity on him.

“You too, huh?” 

Kravitz looks away from watching Barry’s enthusiastic debate about thralls with three necromancers—one of whom _probably_ requires a warning visit—with a start. There’s an older tiefling beside him, wearing a button up and cardigan. He has a sardonic smile on his face and a bottle of wine in his hand. 

“I’m sorry?” Kravitz says.

“I recognize that look,” says the tiefling. “Not that into necromancy, huh?”

“No, I—”

The tiefling shakes his head and tops up Kravitz’s glass. “I’m the same way, but my Gemma—” He nods towards the half-elf talking to Barry. “—she loves it. I always think it’s nice to take an interest in your partner’s hobbies. Shows a real solid relationship, you know?”

Kravitz thinks about his recent attempts to pick up cooking and Taako pointedly learning more about the Raven Queen for him. It makes it easy to smile in response to the question. 

“You caught me,” he says. “Ben’s the one who’s interested in necromancy, really, but I want to be supportive.”

“I’m Bernard,” the tiefling says, smiling. “Kravitz, right? Nancy says you’re a bard. I’m a teacher myself, but I dabbled a bit in music when I was younger. Gemma and I have our daughter enrolled in piano lessons. That’s how we met Nancy and Deb in the first place. Their kids have the same teacher as our Tash and we just got to talking. Funny the way these things happen.” Bernard looks at Gemma again, who’s copying Barry’s diagram into a notebook. Kravitz is going to have to talk with him about _helping_ people they should be thwarting. “Raised a couple thralls last weekend and now Gem can’t stop bragging. Of course, I don’t think any of us knows as much as your Ben. He’s read everything. You two have kids?”

Kravitz nearly chokes on his wine at the question and Bernard laughs as he tries to compose himself. “No,” he says. “No children.”

“You’re probably too young to be in a rush still, hmm? You’ve got the look of a newly wed about you. Too busy with other things for kids yet,” Bernard says, and winks.

If Kravitz wasn’t undead and also the Grim Reaper, he’d pray for death to come for him right about now. “We’re not—hey.” Kravitz reaches out and stops Barry before he can eat a cracker with a piece of smoked gouda on it. Yes, it’s a wine and cheese night, _but_ — “Should you be eating that?”

Barry glances down at the cheese he was about to put in his mouth and then back at Kravitz. “I’m not _that_ allergic.”

Kravitz raises an eyebrow. Lup and Taako have definitely both mentioned Barry’s milk allergy in a way that means Kravitz shouldn’t back down on the cheese thing. He doesn’t need Barry distracted by an upset stomach if the necromancers catch on to their ruse and they need to run.

Not that any of them seem… particularly threatening so far. Other than a reprimand over the thrall raisings, Kravitz hasn’t heard anything actionable all night. He’d call it a wasted night, but he _did_ get free wine out of it, so it wasn’t a complete waste.

“Okay, fine,” Barry says, and sets the cracker down.

Across from Barry, Gemma actually, literally coos. “You two are so cute together. How did you meet?”

Kravitz’s mind goes blank. It’s a question Taako loves because nobody outside of his immediate circle _knows_ he’s dating the Grim Reaper. It would be inconvenient for the entire world to know Kravitz’s job. He’s just Taako’s handsome, human partner, and Taako takes pleasure in telling everyone who asks that Kravitz tried to kill him and things took off from there.

It’s both true, just this side of believable because Taako is _Taako_ , and absolutely the worst thing to say to rich old ladies at school fundraisers.

Honestly it amuses the hell out of Kravitz too. He makes sure to go a bit spooky and gaunt everytime Taako goes with the truth instead of making something up. There’s a lot of speculation about what Taako’s handsome partner _does_ for a living—most people have settled on “sugar baby” and Taako loves it—and one of the more creative, but also nearly accurate, guesses is professional assassin.

Kravitz, when _he’s_ asked, usually goes with “work,” so when Gemma asks it’s the first thing that comes to mind.

“Work,” he says, at the same moment that Barry says: “Friends.”

Gemma, Bernard, and the other two necromancers Barry was talking to frown at them. Not accusing, just… confused.

“I… did some work for Ben’s friends,” Kravitz says, before anyone jumps in to question the ruse in its entirety. “They introduced us.”

Barry nods. “They did a, you know, an ‘oh Ben, you play the piano, don’t you?’ thing. Tried to get us talking.”

“Ben, you play the piano?” Nancy smiles from beside them, holding a tray of mini-sausage rolls. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, I, uh, had lessons as a kid. Did a lot of… intensive practicing for a bit later in life,” Barry says, smiling at Nancy as he reaches for one of the sausage rolls.

“Oh?” Gemma asks, giving Kravitz a pointed look. “Intensive practicing to _impress_ someone?”

There’s a pause as Barry catches on to Gemma’s implication. Kravitz knows Barry was thinking about Lup and the Legato Conservatory, but still. He grabs a sausage roll to give himself something to do besides laugh. 

“Absolutely,” Kravitz says. “Ben absolutely did intensive practicing to try and impress me, a professional bard, with his piano playing.”

“It worked, didn’t it? We’re married,” Barry says, raising an eyebrow. “Anyway, we were even because Kravitz started looking into _my_ work too.”

“Oh, so your interested in necromancy developed when you met Ben?” Nancy asks, as Bernard gives Kravitz a knowing look. “That’s so cute. I have some beginner’s books you can borrow if you need anything. I know Ben’s got quite the collection, but knowing him there’s not much introductory material. You shouldn’t have to wade through all that jargon when you’re just starting out.”

“No, I, uh, I’m good,” Kravitz says.

“I’ve helped him,” Barry says. “He’s a pretty quick study.”

“And how’s Ben on the piano?” Bernard asks, voice teasing. “Should we be asking you two for a duet?”

“Oh, _yes_!” Nancy says, perking up and handing her tray of sausage rolls off to Gemma. “Ben, Kravitz, you _have_ to! We have a piano. Deb’s been so worried about the party going well. The last time we hosted we tried to raise that thrall and couldn’t get the spell to work and she’s felt so bad. A live duet would just _make_ the night. I mean, it’s already a coup, getting you and Kravitz here, Ben, but that would make her feel _so_ much better. And I think we’d all _love_ to see your handsome husband in his element.”

Barry and Kravitz don’t have a duet they play. Kravitz knows Barry played piano extremely well seventy years ago, but maintaining piano playing skills required practice and dedication. Barry’s had no reason to keep on top of his piano playing. “I don’t think—”

“Sure,” Barry says, before Kravitz can fully refuse.

Kravitz looks at him, surprised, because this sounds like a _terrible_ idea if they’re actually trying to sell this ruse. “Really?”

“I mean, what have we got to lose?” Barry asks. “Should be fun.”

Barry… has a point. Gemma needs a warning over the thralls and everyone else maybe needs a bit of a talking to, but the stakes tonight at low and yes, okay, Kravitz knows himself well enough to admit that this idea appeals to him because there’s even odds they try this and fail completely. In an evening that will otherwise by spent talking baseline necromancy with bored suburbanites, it’ll keep things interesting.

“Yeah, all right,” Kravitz says, turning back to Nancy. “Have you just got the piano?”

“Is that a problem?” Nancy asks, glancing from Kravitz to Barry. “Do you both need one?”

Nancy’s missing that Kravitz was actually asking if she had any other instruments in the house is really all the answer he needs. “We’ll manage,” he says. “Where is it?”

Nancy points them towards the piano, in the next room, and then starts gathering the party together to hear them play as he and Barry go to settle in and warm up.

“Any ideas?” Barry asks, opening the cover on the upright and taking a seat.

“I cannot believe you said yes to this and you have no idea what you want to play.”

Barry snorts. “You said yes too.”

“True,” Kravitz says. He stretches his wrists, glancing over his shoulder at the door to the front room. “The party was getting dull. Not much information to be had here tonight.”

“I don’t think they trust us yet,” Barry says, frowning. “Nobody’s invited me to any rituals. I usually get some invites.”

Kravitz has to admit Barry might have a point. “Bernard called me a casual.”

Barry lets out a startled bark of laughter. “Well, fuck. Maybe that’s what all the couple questions are about. They don’t trust us. And we’re… mismatched.”

“So you’re saying we have to nail this piano duet we’ve never practiced,” Kravitz says, looking down at Barry on the bench.

Barry reaches up to adjust his glasses. “I, uh, yeah,” he says. “I don’t suppose you know any four hand duets? My sight reading’s pretty good.”

Kravitz’s knowledge of Barry’s musical tastes is… limited, but if he thinks of the song that is embedded in his mind—the same way it’s embedded in all their minds—and builds from that, then Kravitz can make an educated guess.

He turns over sheet music sitting on the piano so the blank side is facing out and touches his fingers to it, holding the song in his mind as he casts Prestidigitation and the notes appear on the page. Kravitz could take it easy on them, or he could make this a challenge.

He’s opted for challenge.

Barry looks at the sheet music for a moment, glances up at Kravitz skeptically, then nods. “I _think_ I can handle this,” he says. “Okay if I play secondo?”

Kravitz takes a seat to Barry’s right just as Nancy starts leading everyone in. “If that’s easier for you.”

Barry looks at the sheet music for a moment, then back at Kravitz. “Nothing about this is going to be easy.”

“Are you two ready?” Nancy asks, walking up and putting a hand on both their shoulders. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like this.”

“You’ll have to excuse the occasional stumble,” Kravitz says. “But I think we’ve got this.”

Barry takes a deep breath and lets it out, putting his hands on the keys. “Okay,” he says. “When you’re ready.”

Kravitz whistles softly to conjure a Mage Hand to handle the music for them, then puts his hands on the keys too. It’s asking more from Barry’s playing than his duet with Lup, to get him to do a duet with an unfamiliar partner while sharing a piano, but Kravitz is familiar with the song. Barry, as secondo to Kravitz’s primo, can lean on his playing.

“I’ll count us in,” Kravitz says, beginning to tap out the tempo of the piece with   his foot. “Three, two, one—”

And they’re off, a little rough at the beginning, a few missed notes and stumbles, but Kravitz is [letting the flow of the music overtake him, is dragging Barry along through the bouncing waltz](https://open.spotify.com/track/5zXJ4fmLHwU6inB4hqGwIW), their hands moving in sync over the keys. Kravitz loves music, loves this song—it’s very easy for him to forget their audience consists entirely of necromancers when he’s focused on turning the pages of their makeshift sheet music and hoping he hasn’t mis-remembered either of their parts while crafting it. They’re perhaps less practiced than two people who do this regularly would be, but they’re _not bad_ —they’re _passable_ and what more could he and Barry ask for, in the face of an inadvertent duet request?

By the time they reach the end of the song, Kravitz has a wide grin on his face and when they hit the final notes and he looks at Barry, Barry does too.

The room erupts into applause. Taako has recently embarked on a “catching bone daddy up with our modern ways” kick. Kravitz is pretty sure now would be an appropriate time for a fistbump, if it weren’t for all the necromancers who think they’re a married couple.

“Wonderful!” Nancy says, when the clapping dies down. “Ben, Kravitz, thank you _so_ much.”

“You’ve _got_ to come to the next party too,” says Gemma. “Bernard and I are hosting. We have a piano. Maybe you could give us another duet. It’s so _romantic_ watching you play.”

“You’re just the sweetest couple,” Deb agrees. “You can really see how much you love each other. You know, there’s this ritual Nancy and I are interested in trying out.” She leans forward, smiling. “We’d just love it if you two would join us. We’re going to try and raise a thrall again the next time we can get a sitter.”

Fuck it. They’ve earned this. Kravitz holds his fist out to Barry, who looks at it for a moment, then laughs softly and taps his own fist against it.

Kravitz turns back to Deb and gives her his most charming smile. “Tell me more,” he says, taking his wine glass from Barry when he offers it. “Tell me _everything_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Barry and Kravitz play here is [Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty Suite, Op. 66a: V. Waltz, as arranged by Rachmaninoff](https://open.spotify.com/track/5zXJ4fmLHwU6inB4hqGwIW). Kravitz is absolutely showing off.


	13. Kravitz and Barry have an uncomfortable conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Barry + Kravitz: I know he's my coworker AND my brother in law and I rely on and appreciate his help but this time Barry has really gone too far in subverting the laws of life and death and after letting him get away with much too much for far too long I'm contractually obligated to do something about it"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, people _really_ enjoyed Barry and Kravitz undercover as a couple together.

Barry and Lup’s house is always warm. It’s got lots of windows to let in the light and a big yard—it’s welcoming, homey. Taako’s got his own room for nights when Kravitz is working late and sometimes, after dinner parties, he and Kravitz both sleep over.

Kravitz likes the house. He likes Lup and Barry. After some growing pains, the three of them have settled into a comfortable workplace dynamic. Kravitz would even call them _friends_ , as well as coworkers and in-laws, now. 

They’re friends, and Kravitz _likes_ Barry, which makes the purpose of his visit here… awkward.

Kravitz is on the clock, in full reaper garb, but it seems like a bit much to open a rift into the house for his usual dramatic entrance, but calling ahead to say he’s coming seems to casual, so Kravitz opens the rift _outside_ their blue house, located in the quiet suburbs outside Neverwinter, and knocks on the front door.

Lup answers his knock dressed in leggings and an oversized sweatshirt. When she sees Kravitz, without Taako, in a suit with his feathered cloak on, her eyebrows raise. “Have we got a gig? You could have called. I’ll need a minute to change.”

“No, it’s… not that sort of work visit,” Kravitz says. “I know you’re both off the clock. I’m here to see Barry.”

“Oh,” Lup says. There’s a beat where she thinks this over. “Guess this is about the lab, huh?”

Kravitz closes his eyes and counts down from five. “Lup,” he says. “The two of you work for the Raven Queen. Do you see—can you maybe see how having a necromantic lab in your house might be an _issue_?”

“Look, I love him with all my heart, bone boy, but the lab is all Barry,” Lup says. “You wanna come in? There’s coffee.”

What Kravitz _really_ wants to do is go home and drink a bottle of wine, but he nods and steps inside. “Could you get Barry for me?” he asks. “We need to talk.”

Lup waves Kravitz in the direction of the familiar open concept kitchen and it feels _weird_ to pour himself a cup of coffee when he’s technically on the clock, but it would be weirder to make Lup or Barry serve him. He compromises by opting to take his coffee black. Opening the fridge to dig out the cream is too much, too familiar. He can hear Lup yelling down into the basement as he gets out the cup and pours.

“Babe! Babe, Krav is here to talk to you!” 

A pause. Kravitz doesn’t hear Barry’s response, but there must be one because a moment later Lup is yelling again, voice heavy with significance. 

“No, to _talk_ to you!”

Kravitz takes a sip of coffee and tries not to wrinkle his nose. Taako likes to joke about Lup and Barry brewing their coffee strong enough to wake the dead. Right now that doesn’t feel like as much of a joke as it should.

The kitchen is sunny and bright. There are daisies in a vase in the windowsill and dishes in the sink. It’s all so comfortable and familiar that Kravitz feels absurd sitting there, waiting, dressed for work.

Barry walks in looking nervous, and Kravitz schools his expression into something stern. 

“Barry.”

“I know why you’re here,” Barry says. “I’m sorry about the, you know, rules, but in my defense they’re _my_ bodies so—”

Kravitz cuts Barry off. “That’s exactly the kind of thing the necromancers we hunt down say. That is _exactly_ the kind of attitude—”

“No!” Barry lets out a sharp bark of nervous laughter. “No, Kravitz. Hold on, you misunderstood. They’re _my bodies_.” He gestures towards himself. “As in, I can’t raise a soul with them because I’m, uh, right here.”

Kravitz pauses. Sits with this information for a moment. Gets up to get the cream out of the fridge because _fuck it_ —today’s obviously going to get long and weird the way things with Barry and Lup and the rest of the IPRE sometimes get long and weird. His coffee might as well be palatable.

Does he sort of wish he had something stronger than cream to add to it? Yes, but it’s the middle of the day. Kravitz can resist.

He adds enough cream to the coffee to mellow it out, then turns to face Barry again. “Okay,” he says. “Explain.”

“I mean, I was body hopping for a while,” Barry says, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Sometimes I’d just leave ‘em where they fell, you know? But it kind of… seemed like a waste of a body and also like a bad idea, just leaving corpses scattered all over Faerun, so if I could swing it I’d take them with me. A cold spell and a nice, secluded cave go a long way towards preservation in a pinch.”

“And you didn’t think it was important to bring up the fact that you’ve got… a collection of your own corpses before now?”

Barry shrugs. “Figured it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission, you know?”

Kravitz… does know, sort of. He doesn’t agree with Barry’s choices, but he can follow his reasoning and see why Barry decided to handle this the way he did. Kravitz _would_ have said no. He’s saying no now. Even if Barry’s not trying to raise the dead and even if, okay, they’re his own bodies and he’s obviously got consent, this isn’t—this is… “You work for the Raven Queen, Barry. Do you think you maybe, just possibly, need to _follow her rules_?”

“Sure,” Barry says, in a way that really means _no_. “Do you want to come down and see the lab?”

Kravitz _wants_ to have Barry apologize, agree to never do it again, and pack up his basement lab for good. He _wants_ to wrap this up quickly and never have to talk about it again. He _wants_ to go home, because Taako’d been planning on baking when Kravitz left for work in the morning and Taako’s baking is magnificent. Everything he makes is.

“All right,” Kravitz says. “Why not? Let’s go see the lab.”

Barry leads the way, back down the hall and past Lup, who gives him a quick kiss on the way by. “Be nice to skeletor,” she says. “Start off slow.”

“I’ve been a bounty hunter for the Raven Queen for centuries,” Kravitz says. “I think I can handle it.”

Lup pats him on the shoulder and Kravitz follows Barry downstairs.

What was once probably a run of the mill unfinished basement is now a full-stocked laboratory. There’s a wall of mortuary fridges on one side of the room and various in-progress experiments line the workbench built into the far wall, including a small collection of disturbingly human looking organs preserved in jars. The whole room reeks so heavily of industrial strength cleaner and formaldehyde that the fumes _have_ to be kept from the rest of the house with strategic spells. Kravitz is dead and he still feels sympathetically light-headed as the smell hits him.

“So this is my lab,” Barry says, moving to the dissection table in the middle of the room. “And this is, uh, what I’m working on right now.”

In the middle of the room, lying on the metal table, is Barry.

Or rather, one of Barry’s bodies. One of Barry’s bodies that has its chest cut open and spread out, with half its organs removed. Kravitz looks at the body, then at Barry, standing sheepishly beside it, like maybe Kravitz just caught him cross-stitching a bad word into a pillowcase or something and not… not _harvesting organs from his own corpse._

Kravitz can see why Lup told Barry to take it easy on him. It’s all a bit _much_.

“Barry,” Kravitz says, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You see why I might have a problem with this, right?”

Barry looks over his shoulder at the body. The air around if shimmers with some kind of stasis spell. “Well, uh… yeah, I can see why you might have an issue if it was someone else’s body, but… it’s mine.” Barry looks at Kravitz again. “You remember last month when we shut down that necromantic circle that was kidnapping their victims and then using bits of them at a time?”

How could Kravitz forget? They’d used healing spells to sustain the lifeforce of the people they captured, taking whatever parts they needed, one by one, until even the most powerful spells could no longer maintain their victim’s life. “I remember.”

“Right,” Barry says. “Well, we couldn’t figure out what they were planning on using everything for and, uh, you know I fully support you cutting monologues short, but… you know. If we’d listened to them rant for a big longer maybe we could have picked up on what they were trying to do.”

Kravitz had lost his temper when the necromancers involved started talking about how they were _heroes,_ how Kravitz should be _thanking_ them because their work required less loss of life than the average circle’s. Kravitz had hooked his scythe through the leader’s side and pulled out his soul. “Are you telling me you want to recreate their work?”

“No!” Barry shakes his head. “No, not that—of _course_ not that. Come on.” He turns to the workbench along the wall and frowns. “No, I just want to figure out what the hell they were using _spleens_ for. I mean, do you know of a spell that uses spleens? I don’t know of a spell that uses spleens.”

Kravitz has been around for centuries and he may be _against_ necromancy, fundamentally, but he also knows an awful lot about it, and Barry… has a point. Kravitz doesn’t want to admit it, but he has a point. “No,” he says. “I don’t.”

“Right?” Barry perks up a bit, crossing the room and gesturing to one of his projects. Now that Kravitz is looking at it properly, it’s easy to tell that it’s a human spleen—one that has been jerry rigged with piping and from which a viscous, red-black fluid is slowly dripping, into a collection jar. “So this is my best guess so far. It’s not _perfect_ , but I think this is the kind of thing they were going for. I was just going to grab my spleen out of that corpse for another go at making this work.”

Kravitz squints at the spleen, at the faint aura of necromantic magic he can sense around it. He gives Barry a skeptical look. “And you thought this was… fine?”

“I mean not _fine_ , but, you know, not _that bad_.” Barry raises his eyebrows. “Wanna know what I found?”

Of course Kravitz wants to know. He has no idea, looking at the spleen, what the purpose of the spellwork might be. Barry is a much better necromancer than most of the people Kravitz has hunted down over the years and sometimes the things he comes up with—possibilities for spellwork, things the cults they take down might be doing—come so far out of left field for Kravitz that it takes him a while to catch up. Kravitz is good at _hunting_ their bounties, but Barry’s a brilliant arcanist and he understands the inner workings of a necromancer’s mind better than Kravitz ever will.

Barry must see the curiosity warring with Kravitz’s desire to shut this _down_ on his face, because he forges on.

“I think they were trying to make blood,” he says. “Just… a fresh supply of large amounts of blood that only required a few deaths instead of many. Bone marrow is the primary site of hematopoiesis in a healthy human adult, but the spleen has important hematopoietic functions up until the fifth month of gestation. After birth, erythropoietic functions stop, but blood gets stored in your spleen and it’s where blood creation _starts_ , so I thought… you know… why not see if it’d work? It’s going okay, but I think they’d want their blood fresher than this so…”

“You think they were trying to make… an endless supply of blood?”

“Well, even with stasis and preservation spells you’d still need to replace the spleens every couple months, but yeah. I figure it’s a good bet.” Barry shrugs. “I was going to tell you once I got the spell working.”

Barry might know necromancers, but Kravitz knows the infernal and the astral and the celestial. He is of the Raven Queen—her charge and her hand. He knows demonic influence when it rears its head. “They were trying to raise a demon,” Kravitz says. “Their sentences will have to be lengthened. All that bullshit about saving lives by torturing people. They were attempting to bind a demon to their circle and ply it with an endless supply of blood. I knew there was something they were trying to hide. We should inspect their keep again and make sure we confiscated everything. If they’ve got part of ritual set up somewhere we don’t want that hanging around.”

Kravitz sighs and leans against the workbench. Looks over the lab. Honestly, deciding which experiments are acceptable and which aren’t sounds like a headache Kravitz doesn’t need right now. “So this is all for work?”

Silence. Kravitz turns to Barry and raises an eyebrow.

“It’s… _mostly_ for work,” Barry says. “Ninety… seventy-five percent for work.” He pauses. “Maybe sixty.”

Kravitz is going to regret this. He can already tell he’s going to regret this. But _fuck it_ , Barry’s using his own bodies and has uncovered a potential demon issue. “Bring it up to seventy-five,” he says. “No using corpses that aren’t your own. No _making_ new corpses to get around that rule.” He gives Barry a stern look, then offers him his hand. “Have we got a deal?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Barry says, taking Kravitz’s hand to shake it. He grins as he does, shoulders relaxing. “I gotta admit, bud. I thought it’d go way worse when you found out.”

“Then why _do_ it?” Kravitz asks, exasperated. “You think I _like_ having to come out here on a work call to issue a warning?”

Barry looks away from Kravitz, at his lab, and there’s a look Kravitz recognizes on his face—a look of satisfaction, of pride over a job well done, of _pleasure._ It’s the same look Kravitz wears when he brings in a particularly difficult bounty or finally gets some time to work on the music he’s composing again, thanks to Taako.

“It’s… what I’m good at,” Barry says, shrugging. “It’s what I know. What I _studied_. I mean, it’s—talking about having a _calling_ , to you, feels a little silly, I guess, but, uh, that’s what this stuff always felt like to me. Like what I was meant to do. It’s part of me. As much as Lup or Taako or the rest of the crew is part of me.” Barry reaches up to adjust his glasses and turns back to Kravitz, smiling. “I know it’s weird and dark and, you know, I’ve crossed some lines, but I love it.”

Kravitz gets it. He kind of hates that he gets it, but he does. He looks around the lab once more, then back to Barry. “You get to be the one who tells the Raven Queen about this.”

Barry lets out a startled laugh. “We’re _telling_ her?”

“We can’t _not_ tell her,” Kravitz says. “Do you _want_ to end up in the Eternal Stockade? Because I also refuse to the one who tells Taako and Lup why you’re suddenly in ghost jail.”

Barry’s lips twitch. “Ghost jail,” he repeats.

Kravitz is really just… having _such_ a long day. “You know what I mean.”

“Taako and Lup are rubbing off on you,” Barry says. “ _Ghost jail_.”

Kravitz can’t help himself. “Well, _Taako’s_ certainly rubbing off on me.”

“Yeah, okay, I guess I set you up for that one,” Barry says. “Are we… good?”

“You absolutely did.” Kravitz pauses, glancing around the lab again, eyes lingering briefly on Barry’s splayed open corpse. “We’re good,” he says. “But I swear to the Queen, Barry—no more unauthorized necromancy or…” Kravitz doesn’t actually have a punishment in mind. It’s hard to punish someone who’s already been pardoned for being a lich. Where do you draw the line, after that? Especially with a reaper.

Barry raises his eyebrows. “Or I’ll go in ghost time out?”

Barry means it as a joke, Kravitz knows, but it gives Kravitz an idea. “Or I’ll recruit Lup in coming up with your punishment.”

Lup might love Barry and might support his continued flouting of the laws of life and death, but if Barry crossed a _line_ with them, she’d take pleasure in encouraging him not to do it again. Creatively. Probably by looping in her brother.

“She’s my _wife_ ,” Barry says, like that means anything. “She _knows_ about the lab. She… yeah, all right.” He makes a face. “I’ll behave.”

“Good,” Kravitz says, and pats Barry on the shoulder. “Let’s go find Lup. Taako’s doing a roast tonight and he wanted me to invite you over for dinner when I stopped by.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: [anonymous_moose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymous_moose/pseuds/anonymous_moose) wrote a follow up fic for this in which Barrry tells the Raven Queen what he did, called [A Royal Reprimand](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14100957), and it's _very_ good so please go read it!


	14. Barry has a bad run in with a fan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Halfway through a job, Barry realizes why the name of the necromancer they're hunting sounds familiar: it's because @thirsty_thragnar (Thragnar Jean Williams)'s tweet about where exactly they would like to put their tongue has been BURNED PERMANENTLY INTO HIS BRAIN since he read it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For context: We were joking on my blog about the IPRE being forced to read embarrassing celebrity thirst tweet on Faerun's equivalent of a late night talk show. This was the outcome.

There’s something about the name Thragnar that rings a bell with Barry, but he’s got his scythe out and is halfway through the job before he realizes why. It’s a three person job and Barry’s not the primary on this case or he might have made the connection sooner. When it clicks, he’s glad he’s already in full-on lich mode.

“I don’t see the Raven Queen sending you after the seven birds!” Thragnar throws a nasty looking curse at Kravitz. Thragnar’s raised several thralls. The condo they’re fighting in is crowded. “How does it feel knowing your goddess is a hypocrite?”

Lup laughs, because she always finds it funny when necromancers try and use them to justify their actions. Lup’s good at separating out what she’s responsible for and what’s beyond her control. “Believe me, babe. Spooky mama didn’t let us off the hook.”

Thragnar‘s wand clatters to the ground. She stares at Lup, shocked, as Kravitz cleaves her remaining thralls in half. “L-Lup?”

Lup’s form shifts, so she’s back in her body. “If you do the crime, you have to be willing to do the time. You killed people to extend your life, Thragnar. Not exactly saving the universe shit.”

Thragnar‘s not looking at Lup anymore though. She’s staring at Barry, her expression a mix of horror and wonder and—lust.

It’s the look on her face that crystallizes it for Barry, that brings into  _abrupt_  focus the reason he remembers Thragnar‘s name.

Sometimes the IPRE gives interviews. Sometimes the interviewers like to try and horrify them. Sometimes they succeed.

Sometimes, they hand Barry a list of things people have said about him, names attached, and Barry is forced to live with those statements burned into his mind because Barry has an  _exceptionally_  good memory.

@thirsty_thragnar (Thragnar Jean Williams) had said, of Barry:  _I would lick that man everywhere. I would put my tongue where the sun don’t shine. I hope his wife treats him right._

Barry stares at Thragnar and Thragnar stares back. Then Barry opens up a rift to the first safe place he can think of—Taako and Kravitz’s apartment—and dives through it so fast he almost takes Taako out falling onto into his kitchen. The rift slams shut before Lup and Kravitz can finish asking what the  _hell_  he’s doing.

“Hey, uh, Barold?” says Taako, holding a tupperware container of hummus and a bowl of baby carrots. “What the fuck, my dude?”

Barry rolls over on the tiled floor, back in his human body, staring up at his friend. “Taako,” he says, reaching over and grabbing his pant leg, voice pleading. “Taako,  _kill me_.”


	15. Barry and Kravitz go undercover as a couple pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Okay so I was thinking about that fake dating thing you wrote a while back (the Barry and Kravitz one not the taakitz one) (although tbh I also spend way too much time thinking about the taakitz one) and it occurred to me that Barry Bluejeans is probably a topic of conversation at necromantic gatherings and I just... imagine Nancy expressing her Thirst tm for the Lover and also his wife because DAMN and "Ben" is just sitting there like "...uh huh" while Kravitz stuggles valiantly not to laugh"

Kravitz and Barry only just managed to fend off Lup’s offer to help with the case. The ritual is  _invite only_ , and yes, okay, Barry is wearing a good sweater and Kravitz is dressed down, but it’s  _undercover_  work. Nothing she’d be interested in, but undercover nonetheless.

It’s only a matter of time before Taako and Lup discover the ruse, but Barry and Kravitz are agreed—the longer they can hold off discovery, the better. Life with the twins knowing Kravitz is fake married to Barry’s alter-ego will be… hard. At least until the twins stop finding the concept funny. So probably for at least a century.

Nancy and Deb advertised tonight as an attempt to raise a thrall. The furniture in their unfinished basement has been pushed to the sides of the room and a ritual circle traced on the carpet with masking tape. Everyone is dressed in dark colours, for effect.There’s a couple wicker baskets holding spell components on the sideboard.

Absolutely no necromancy has occurred.

“You’d think,” Nancy says, perched on the couch beside Barry, about three and a half glasses of wine in. “You’d  _think_  people would be more  _understanding_ now, you know? I mean, two of the Seven Birds are  _liches_!” She pauses to take another sip of her wine. “They’re my favourites. Barry and Lup. Do you have a favourite?”

“Oh, sure,” Barry says, grinning wide, obviously struggling not to laugh. “Lup, of course. She’s the best. She’s  _amazing_.”

“And gorgeous,” Nancy says, and then leans over Barry, giving Kravitz a knowing look. “I bet I know who  _your_  favourite bird is.”

Kravitz doubts it. He’s been nursing the same glass of wine for the past hour waiting for  _something_  necromantic to happen, but so far it’s just a lot of gossip. Deb and Nancy’s kids are doing well in school. Bernard and Gemma’s daughter is thinking of quitting piano. 

Taako always makes sure they have an exit strategy for dinner parties and right now Kravitz wishes he’d thought that far ahead. He raises his glass to his lips, smiling. “It’s probably not who you think.”

“It’s Barry.” Nancy points an accusatory finger at him. “The  _Lover_. You’ve got a type, dear. I mean, look at Ben. He’s Barry’s spitting image.”

Kravitz nearly chokes on his wine, Beside him, Barry goes very, very still.

“I don’t blame you,” Nancy says, as if she  _hadn’t_ just almost called their bluff. “I mean I know he loves his wife. I love mine too. But I would  _wreck_  that man. A smart, powerful necromancer like that?” Nancy fans herself with the hand not holding a wineglass. “He could possess me any day. Don’t you think, Kravitz?”

“Oh  _god_ ,” Barry says, shifting closer to Kravitz and  _away_  from Nancy. Kravitz can’t blame him. Kravitz would also love to be anywhere else in the planar system right now.

Nancy laughs. “You don’t have to look so shocked, Ben.” She winked. “Maybe Lup and Barry swing. Some couples do that, you know.” She looks around the room for her wife, then smiles when she sees her talking with Gemma. “Deb’s got a freebie from me if she ever meets Lup. Some things are too good to pass up.” 

She turns back to Kravitz and Barry and winks. It’s possible she’s had  _more_  than the three and half glasses Kravitz saw her drink tonight. It’s possible this is a very different sort of party to the one he and Barry thought they were invited to. “You could always watch.”

“Okay!” Barry says, standing up as Kravitz lets out a quickly muffled burst of laughter. “Okay, Krav, I think I—it’s getting late. We should probably go home. This has been  _such_  a pleasure, Nancy, but  _really—_ I’m going to leave now. _”_

Kravitz pressed his lips together, nodding as he tries to get a hold of himself. “I’m sorry,” he says, getting to his feet. Barry is already on the other side of the room, heading to the stairs. “Ben just—gets touchy, apparently. We had a  _lovely_  time.” He pauses for a moment, laughter under control. “And it’s Taako, actually. My favourite of the Seven Birds.”

Nancy cocks her head to the side, looking Kravitz over. “Huh,” she says. “I wouldn’t have picked you out as the Taako type.”

“Oh yes,” Kravitz says. “I like to think I’m  _very_  much his type.” He glances over his shoulder. Barry is just gone now, up the stairs and probably waiting for him at the front door. “But Barry’s not so bad either. Definitely in my top three.”


	16. A Hogwarts AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over on [my tumblr](http://marywhal.tumblr.com) I did a meme sorting TAZ character into Hogwarts houses, which culminated in anonymousAlchemist asking me to write a snippet of the Harry Potter AU I'd outlined. In it, Magnus and Lup are in Gryffindor and Taako, Lucretia, and Barry are in Slytherin. Kravitz is in Ravenclaw solely because of the Raven thing. If you want to read the posts for the full content, they're available [here!](http://marywhal.tumblr.com/tagged/taz%20hp%20au)

Kravitz is on edge as he walks into Hogsmeade. Technically he has no authority here—he’s a prefect, not a professor—but he _knows_ Taako and his friends are planning something. Taako’s been dropping hints about something big happening the next Hogsmeade weekend for weeks. The last time Taako was that unsubtle about a prank, the IPRE (Kravitz _still_ hasn’t figured out what it stands for, but he knows it’s what they call themselves) enchanted every toilet in Hogwarts to offer congratulations when flushed.

It didn’t hurt anyone, but Kravitz hopes to never again have a toilet tell him _great job_.

Whatever this is, it’s got to be big. The IPRE aren’t limiting their antics to Hogwarts. They’re going rogue in Hogsmeade, where there are _real_ people operating real businesses, and sure, Kravitz isn’t an Auror _yet_ , but he comes from a long line of them. A prefect’s kind of the same thing. If the professors won’t listen to his gut instincts, that’s fine. Kravitz will bring them proof that Taako’s making mischief and then they’ll have to do something.

Taako’s making himself easy to follow, though, not even trying to lose his tail. He walks straight into the village and then lingers, glancing around the square. When he sees Kravitz, he smiles, turns on his heel, and walks straight into Madam Puddifoot’s.

Kravitz doesn’t know what prank Taako and his friends are pulling in a tea shop, but he’s going to find out. Especially because, when he glances around, he can see that the rest of the IPRE are here. Lup, Barry, and Lucretia are lurking in the mouth of an alley. Magnus is close to Puddifoot’s. They’re all trying very hard to look invisible.

Kravitz pretends he doesn’t see them, adjusting the wand holster up his sleeve as he approaches the shop. Taako is just inside, seemingly studying the menu. Waiting. He’s out of uniform today, wearing nice dark jeans and a big, green coat. His long hair is pulled back in a messy braid and even in the winter his freckles stand out on his high cheekbones. He looks… lovely. Even in the pink nightmare of a shop. He looks like maybe he’s waiting for a date.

Kravitz feels doubt about his certainty, momentarily, but _no_ , he’d _know_ if Taako were on a date. Taako would’ve said. Loudly. Kravitz definitely would have heard about it in Transfigurations of Arithmancy. This isn’t a date. It’s just set up to look like one to make Kravitz doubt his conviction. Taako is _up_ to something.

If this is a trap, Kravitz might as well spring it.

He opens the door and steps inside the cramped little shop. “Taako,” he says, keeping his tone cordial. “Are you really planning something _here?_ ”

Maybe they’re going to enchant the teapots. Or turn the seats of the chairs huddled around the small tables into whoopie cushions. It seems like the kind of thing the IPRE would do—making trouble, but not actually hurting anyone with it.

“I know it’s cliche, but where else are you gonna go in Hogsmeade?” Taako asks, grinning up at Kravitz. “Took you long enough, Bones. You almost lost us our table.” Taako grabs his hand, dragging him towards an empty table.

Taako’s hands are warm. Kravitz didn’t bother with gloves so he knows his are freezing, but he spent too long debating over his outfit and had to leave in a hurry to make sure he didn’t miss Taako going into town.

The hand Taako touched still feels warm when Taako lets go. He drops into a seat at a two-person table and gestures for Kravitz to sit too. “Well?”

“Taako, what is this?” Kravitz asks, taking a cautious seat. “What are you planning?”

“This.” Taako looks incredibly smug as he shrugs off his coat. “We’re on a date, handsome.”

Kravitz—he’s glad his skin is dark enough to hide the sudden rush of heat to his face. Taako can’t _know_ about his crush. Kravitz is good about hiding it. He doesn’t favour Taako even though Taako’s always flirting with him and trying to get out of losing House Points. He pretends like his feelings don’t exist because he’s got a job to do. “A _date_?”

“Yes,” says Taako. He pauses. “I mean, unless you don’t… want it to be a date. I’m pretty sure you do though?”

“You—I think you have to _ask_ someone out before you can go on a date with them,” Kravitz says, frowning at Taako. “You can’t just _declare_ something a date.”

Taako shrugs. “I mean, I’m asking now.”

“Is this a prank, Taako?” Kravitz asks. He hopes not. He hopes Taako didn’t figure out Kravitz’s crush and decide this would be _funny_. The IPRE don’t pull mean pranks. That’s all he’s got to hold on to. Taako’s creative and talented and _sometimes_ mean, but this seems like too much, and it’s obvious his friends knew what Taako was doing. “Are you a distraction from what you’re all really doing here?”

“No!” Taako protests, too loud in the little shop. He reaches out to touch Kravitz’s cold hand again. “I—Christ, Kravitz, you’re a wizard, warm yourself—I wanted to… ask you on a date, but I didn’t know how. So I tricked you.” Taako squeezes his hand. “I planted a bunch of fake hints about a prank and I tricked you into following me down here. For tea. Or coffee, if you want, but I see you drinking a lot of tea and it’s kind of tradition. And their scones aren’t bad, so…” Taako shrugs, looking away. _He’s_ not so lucky. Kravitz can see Taako blushing. “You know. If you don’t _want_ this to be a date. That’s fine. No skin off cha’boy’s nose or whatever. Your loss, handsome, but I thought—”

“No!” Kravitz says, before he can stop himself. Taako seems sincere in a way he doesn’t get to see often. Taako seems like he genuinely wants this to be a date. “No, that’s… I’d be happy. With a date.”

Taako looks very relieved. He doesn’t let go of Kravitz’s hand. “Oh,” he says. “Good. That’s—”

“But you have to ask.” Kravitz isn’t going to let Taako win _that_ easily. “You can’t _trick_ me into going on a date with you, Taako. You have to ask me out.”

Taako narrows his eyes. “You’re already here,” he says. “It’s a date.”

“It’s hanging out.” Kravitz grins. “It’s just two classmates spending time together until you ask—”

“Kravitz will you go on a date with me?” Taako asks. “I get _creative_ and this is the thanks I get?”

“Yes, Taako. I’ll go on a date with you.” Kravitz should probably still harbour some suspicions. If he were an Auror, he’d need to be more objective about this. Taako _is_ still a troublemaker.

It’s just he’s a troublemaker Kravitz has had a crush on since third year.

“Great.” Taako sticks his tongue out at Kravitz. “Now that we’ve got _that_ out of the way can we get some scones?”

“Absolutely,” Kravitz agrees. “They have a great darjeeling here too, but first…” He points to the front window of the shop, where Magnus, Lup, Lucretia, and Barry have all crowded to peer into the shop. When Magnus spots Kravitz looking, he flashes them a thumbs up. “Is there a _reason_ your friends are all hanging around outside?”

Taako flushes bright red this time and makes a rude gesture at his friends. Lup cackles and drags Barry and Lucretia away from the window. Magnus just waves back in return. “Because they’re the _worst_ ,” he says. “Because they think my crush on you is _cute_. Because Lup bet me fifteen sickles this wouldn’t work.”

“It shouldn’t have worked,” Kravitz says, feeling pleased. “Lup’s right.”

“Lup’s paying for this date, is what she’s doing,” Taako says, picking up his menu and hiding behind it. “We’re getting clotted cream too. If I’m going to endure their teasing, I’m going to make it worth while. Make this fuckin’ _decadent_.”

Taako is cute when he’s flustered. Kravitz’s crush had seemed hopeless before, but now here he is, on a surprise date with Taako. “I don’t know,” he says. “I think it’d be worth it even without the fancy food. We’re on a date.”

Taako peeks out from behind the menu and raises an eyebrow. “Smooth, Bones,” he says, but he’s obviously hiding a smile. “Does this mean no on the clotted cream?”

“Oh no, we’re definitely getting it,” Kravitz says, smiling. “And upgrading to the homemade strawberry preserves. If we’re doing a first date at Madam Puddifoot’s, we’re doing it right.”

“Man after my own heart.” Taako sets the menu down and reaches out to touch Kravitz’s hand again. “You get to plan the second date. I spent weeks building up to this.”

“Could have just asked me,” Kravitz points out. He should say something about a second date not being guaranteed, tease Taako and play a little hard to get, but Taako looks so pleased with himself Kravitz would rather just play along. Besides, he has visions of sandwiches in the Astronomy Tower already. “I’ll plan our second date,” he says. “But you get to do the third.”

Kravitz has a feeling he’s going to have a _very_ good sixth year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos mean the world to me! I really appreciate them. <3
> 
> If you liked this update, why not come talk to me on tumblr, where i'm [@marywhal](http://marywhal.tumblr.com)? I'm always up for a chat!

**Author's Note:**

> This collection will update sporadically. Some ficlets featured on tumblr may not be included here. This is likely because I have plans to expand on them in the future!
> 
> Come say hello on tumblr: [@marywhal](http://marywhal.tumblr.com)


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